Return to Hogwarts, Return to Home, Return to Him
by islandpooka
Summary: Hermione returns to Hogwarts to complete her 7th year as Head Girl alongside a surprising Head Boy. Together, they work through the pain of the war until the war crimes trials begin and Hermione has to testify. Ignores Epilogue, slightly non-canon, Rated M for language, limes, and eventual lemons. HG/DM STORY ON HOLD
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello my lovely readers and welcome to my second attempt at Dramione. I learned a lot from Draco, Evolved and I'm excited to start work on another.**

 **Quick rundown on the background of this story. Big changes are that this fic ignores epilogue and there was more to the night at Malfoy Manor which will be addressed later.**

 **This is Dramione. This is rated M. It will earn that rating through language and smut (eventually). There will be some mild implied noncon if that is triggering for you.**

 **I'm big into reviews and will legitimately take advice if I think you have a better idea for the story than I do because I do not have my stories pre-written. I base new chapters on readers' reviews. The more you review, the faster I publish. It's that easy.**

 **That was a longer intro that I ever intend to do again, but I look forward to hearing from you all.**

 **PS: I've had a Beta join me to try and reinvigorate the story. Changes are small, mostly spelling/grammatical issues. Thank you Cat!**

 **~Pooka**

 **Standard Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter Characters, etc. All belongs to JK Rowling.**

~Hermione~

Hermione closed her eyes, breathed deeply, then exhaled on a smile and opened them once more. She was finally, finally back.

Hogwarts.

 _Home_.

Ron and Harry had rushed off to their Auror training as soon as they discovered that the Ministry had waived their required 7th year coursework as they had managed to defeat Voldemort despite their lack of education. Ron was proud to follow in the twins footsteps of skipping a year and Harry was pleased as could be that he was able to avoid a year of writing lengths of parchment and taking N.E.W.T.s. Both had tried to encourage Hermione to come with them, but she had turned down the offer. She couldn't be happier to return to the place that had taken all of her childhood dreams and made them a reality. Truth be told, she needed to go back to Hogwarts. She needed that dose of her previous life to set her to rights. The year spent hunting Horcruxes and battling Death Eaters had taken its toll on her, and the toll was far greater than the boys had realized. That year, that night, had taken a piece of her that she had yet to regain. No longer was she the happy, if overzealous bookworm. She was older, wiser, and far more cynical. And now, she was going back to the one place she felt she would truly feel safe again. The place she would feel normal again.

Not only was she coming back to the school she so loved, but she also returned as Head Girl. Another dream come true for the bushy haired Muggle-born. She hadn't bothered to ride in the Prefects' car on the Hogwarts Express, choosing instead to sit with Neville, Luna, and Ginny, all of whom would be Seventh Years together. Catching up with her friends had been wonderful, but meant that she had no idea who the other prefects were this year.

"Firs' Years this way! Firs' Years! All of ye, Firs' Years, yer with me!"

Hermione smiled as she looked over at the gigantic Gamekeeper and Care of Magical Creatures professor. Hagrid was in his element, surrounded by wide-eyed eleven year olds who stared up and up and up at the half-giant.

Following the crowds, she made her way to the carriages that would take the rest of the Hogwarts student body to the Great Hall. Her smile drooped, just a bit, when she saw how many students were either staring bug-eyed at the thestrals or tentatively petting them, as Luna did up ahead.

"You and Harry aren't the only one who see them now," Hermione said sadly.

"Oh, I know," Luna said in her dreamy voice, "I wonder if they like the attention or if they'd prefer for us to leave them alone."

Her rhetorical question didn't make her cease petting the nose of the great black beast in front of her. He certainly seemed to be enjoying it, from what Hermione could tell. The great leathery beast nudged Luna's hand when she slowed her petting and twitched its wings in what, Hermione hoped, was pleasure when Luna rubbed a particularly good spot. The thestrals still terrified her, but she didn't mind them terribly when they were on solid ground. She shivered remembering the manic flight to London to rescue Sirius, so they thought, from the Department of Mysteries.

"I believe the prefects are supposed to be up there," Luna said, her voice pulling Hermione from her thoughts. "Everyone else with a badge went that way."

Giddy with excitement, Hermione made her way to the first carriage. She could make out a few of the other perfects: Cormac McLaggen, Padma Patil, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and… she saw a pale blonde head and froze for a instant. Of _course_ Malfoy was a prefect. He certainly had the grades. McGonagall must have been trying to appease the Pure Blood families since Hermione could think of no other reason to let a known Death Eater become a prefect of all things.

And yet, there he was, sitting alone next to the only seat left.

Naturally.

Hermione sighed before climbing into the carriage. She was met with a chorus of greetings from these people she'd known and fought next to for years. It cheered her some before the ice returned to her stomach at the thought of sitting next to Malfoy.

 _Mudblood_.

She shivered and unconsciously grabbed her arm. She'd worn nothing but long sleeves since that night at Malfoy Manor.

 _Mudblood._

Hermione shook her head. Bellatrix featured in her nightmares nearly every time she closed her eyes. She tried to be a good, forgiving person even to Malfoy since he had seemed repentant. She tried to remember that he refused to identify Harry at the manor and Harry swore the Malfoy wouldn't have killed Dumbledore that night in the tower, but found it hard to get past the memories from the first time she'd ever been called that word to that night at the Manor.

Sitting slowly next to him, she held her breath, not sure if she was expected to say something to him or simply ignore him as everyone else seemed to do.

"Granger," he said gruffly with a nod in her direction.

Hermione jumped, then nodded back at him, not trusting her voice to be steady.

 _Mudblood_.

He had been there that night, watching from the corner. She didn't, couldn't, remember if he had looked cheered or frightened or impassive at her torture at the hands of the deranged right-hand of Voldemort, but his blonde hair had been a beacon. Something to focus on in her attempts not to scream as she was put under the Cruciatus curse again and again. Bellatrix had one that easily, drawing sounds from Hermione's throat that she wasn't aware she could make. Sounds that were barely human.

 _Mudblood._

She massaged her arm again before noticing Malfoy glancing at the motion. Hermione stopped, and looked up at the castle. Hogwarts had been rebuilt at a speed that only Magic could accomplish and it was wonderful if strange to see the castle unscathed, as if the Battle of Hogwarts were just a memory instead of a real event. She lost herself in the thoughts of that night and all who were lost and nearly lost there.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: There has been some adjustments of the facts of the book (Malfoy Manor and Potions class). I'm aware of the proper canon according to the books. This is creative license, please don't flay me in the comments for it.**

 **Please review!**

Chapter 2

~Draco~

Draco Malfoy sat with a ramrod straight back that his mother, a stickler for good posture, would have approved of. He didn't sit that way for approval, but simply because he wanted to look stiff and unapproachable. The whispers which surrounded him were not as subtle as the speakers intended and he knew what they said.

"Death Eater"

"Traitor"

" _Murderer_ "

Coming back to Hogwarts had been the easiest and hardest decision he'd made recently. It was an easy choice because, truth be told, he loved school. There was a reason he always had the top marks in his house. Learning about his world, improving his abilities in Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, and yes, Defense Against the Dark Arts, were his greatest joys in life. He and the Dark Lord had been alike in that manner, almost frighteningly so. Voldemort had commented on their similarities on more than one occasion which, Draco reasoned, was why the Dark Lord had taken such a liking to him. To Bellatrix, it would have been a great compliment, but it had only made Draco's skin crawl.

Joining the ranks of the Death Eaters had not been a dream of Draco's, but he would protect his mother at all costs and if taking the Mark kept her from having to do so, he would do it again and again. The Mark had allowed them to stay close to Voldemort which ended up saving their lives once the war was over. Lucius had sung like a canary to save his own skin while Draco had offered to lead raids on the worst of the remaining Death Eaters.

Prior to his death, Severus had told Draco his true allegiances and Draco had shared his. It had all started with a midnight visit to his godfather's home following the escape of the Golden Trio and the rest from the Manor and Bellatrix's resulting torture at the hands of the Dark Lord. Draco had watched, as required for the members of the Inner Circle, then excused himself to visit Severus, hiding his disgust at all that had happened.

"Two days of torturing Granger. Two bloody days." Draco's voice broke and he shivered. "I thought I could do this but I… I don't know if I can."

"What was it that bothered you, Draco? Was it your delicate stomach, or was it the subject of the torture?"

Draco froze, staring at the man who had helped raise him. "What is it that you are asking, Snape?" he asked, sneering.

"Do you care for the Mudblood?"

Draco scoffed. "How can you ask such a thing? She's dirty. Beneath me in every way."

"Not in grades she wasn't," Snape said with a glint in his eye.

Draco snarled. "She was obsessed with grades to make up for her obvious lack of breeding."

"And you were obsessed with her."

Draco looked at his godfather appraisingly. There was something Severus wasn't saying. Something beneath the surface of his soft words, and it had little to do with Draco's thoughts on Hermione.

"Who was she?"

Snape let out a snort or perhaps it was laughter? Laughing was obviously something he didn't do often.

"It's better you didn't know. But suffice to say I know the thoughts in your head. The attempted disgust, the self loathing, the lack of understanding, the anger. The _desire_."

Draco scoffed again.

"You do not deny it. You do not need to. I saw it in you, Draco. I saw those glances of hatred turn to obsession in your last few years. Instead of derision, you held a competitive look in your eyes and, dare I say, admiration?"

His ice cold wall of defense began to melt as he realized this man, his godfather, his protector, understood what no one else in his family ever would. It had happened slowly, then all at once. Like falling asleep. Perhaps it was the night of the Yule Ball when she had walked down the stairs, looking like a goddess with soft curls and timid eyes, so unlike the bushy snarl of hair and fierce determination he was used to seeing in her face. Then again it might have been the day he'd seen her finally thwarted in Potions by none other than Potter with his battered book and Draught of Living Death. She finally looked out of control. Vulnerable. _Desirable_. It was then that he realized that he was drawn to her, not because of her looks though Merlin knew they'd improved vastly from First Year to now, but because of her implacable determination to be the best. Her quick wit. Her brilliance. If it weren't for her blood, she would be his equal in every way. She would have been the kind of woman he would bring home to the Manor to obtain the Malfoy family ring for her finger.

He looked at Snape and felt hollow. Defeated. He finally was able to be honest and the weight melting off his shoulders drained him.

"You understand."

It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Snape answered anyway. "What do you intend to do about it?"

"What _can_ I do about it?"

"Stay vigilant. Stay aware. Obtain the information you can, do as little as you are able to assist him, and be prepared to offer yourself up if he is defeated. If he is not, the Dark Lord may make a gift of her to you if you were to ask in a manner that would make sense to him. I doubt he would pay much attention to what you did with your _gift_ once he handed it over to you."

Draco had taken his godfather's advice to heart and had done exactly as he said. He made notes on every stronghold the Death Eaters held. He maintained a list of every man and woman who served Voldemort and what their crimes were. He had also kept a list of those who had been "persuaded" to help the Death Eaters by means of blackmail or threats. All of this had kept Draco and his family from a life in Azkaban. Severus Snape had saved his life, and it wasn't until later that he realized the muggleborn Snape had loved had been none other than Lily Potter.

Now, as she walked towards him on the carriage rubbing her right arm, he understood what pain his godfather's life must have been. To see the child of the woman he loved and the man he loathed every single day. It must have been torture. Looking at her, this brilliant, womanly, curly haired goddess, he knew he must do everything in his power to avoid Snape's fate. He couldn't bear to see her in the arms of another, especially not someone he loathed as much as Ronald Weasley.

No.

He would do whatever it took to convince her that he was what was right for her, no matter how long it took. And he would start delicately. He would be suave. He would be gentlemanly. He would…

See her, smell her, and lose all train of thought and say in his gruffest possible voice, "Granger."

 _Shit._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'll be breaking canon again, hope y'all don't mind. You'll know it when you read it.**

 **Please review!**

Ch 3

~Hermione~

The ride to Hogwarts was uncomfortable to say the least. The other prefects laughed and cajoled one another but Hermione and her blonde neighbor sat there in silence. The chill from his icy demeanor emanated from him and Hermione kept herself from shuddering. This was, quite possibly, the only thing that could have put a damper on her return to Hogwarts. She'd dreamed of this and now… Now she was stuck next to the nephew on the monster who haunted her dreams.

Glancing to her right, she caught sight on his badge and whipped her head away in shock.

 _No_.

McGonagall wouldn't have done that to her. She wouldn't have made him _Head Boy_. That meant that Hermione would have to work closely with him. They'd live in the head dorms. Together. The dreams of the glorious year she had imagined all summer were dashed as she realized the reality of her situation. Day in and day out she would be near him. Gryffindor already had a number of classes together in general, which meant she would have seen him nearly every day anyway, but now they would spend days and nights in close proximity to one another.

The carriage jostled and she landed against his shoulder and she felt him stiffen further, if that was possible.

~Draco~

Her scent surrounded him. Vanilla, honey, perhaps lavender? It was warm and comforting and arousing. He needed her to move to keep him from embarrassing himself, and yet found himself incapable of helping her. This was quite likely the nearest they'd ever been, certainly the closest he'd been to her since realizing that his feelings had changed. Closing his eyes, looking almost pained, he breathed deeply and lost himself in the moment. His family had never been much of a touchy-feely lot and since the various atrocities he'd witnessed during his time with the Dark Lord, he hated to be touched. But this? This was not the pain he associated with being touched. This was heaven.

 _She_ was heaven.

And in the blink of an eye, she adjusted herself and muttered what sounded like an apology. He wasn't listening. He felt bereft.

~Hermione~

She scooted away from him and instinctively rubbed her arm.

 _Mudblood_.

He had been the first person to call her that. He had been her introduction to that nasty term that would eventually be carved into her arm.

Following the Battle of Hogwarts, she had done everything in her power to remove the scar from her tender inner arm. She had used healing magic and glamour charms and even gone so far as to attempt to burn the skin so as to have anything but that vitriolic word erased from her body. Each and every time, the word had returned. Hermione had cursed the dagger, cursed Bellatrix, cursed the heavens, but the heavens hadn't given a damn. Nothing she did could erase the mark left behind by that monstrous woman.

Hermione had never considered herself a vain person, quite the opposite. She was too pale, her hair too bushy, her teeth too big (though she'd taken care of that during Fourth Year), and yet she found herself obsessed over the mark. Things she had never considered such as dances and weddings now took over her thoughts as she realized all of the things she would never be able to wear again without flaunting the mark to all who would look.

She shook her head.

It wasn't vanity, not entirely. She didn't want to deal with the looks she'd received from the Order members following the skirmish at Malfoy Manor. The damnable pity that everyone wore, plain as day, on their faces. There were few things Hermione detested more than pity. She was not pitiful. She was strong. Powerful. She was the brightest witch of her age, for Merlin's sake. And yet, due to a few moments under the knife of that _bitch_ , Hermione was forever being pitied by anyone who laid eyes on that mark.

It was maddening.

She fumed over the injustice of it all the rest of the way to the castle. Occasionally she would glance over at Malfoy and glare. The entire ride to Hogwarts had been filled with joy and expectation, and now a single person had dampened it all.

 _Bastard_.

~Draco~

The rest of the ride, he did his best not to look at her, but in his peripherals he would catch her glaring. He didn't know the cause in particular, there were so many to choose from, but it shamed him. His pride wouldn't allow that to show however, so he sat as tall and as proud as he knew how pretending that he didn't give a damn.

As the carriages arrived at the entrance, the prefects each broke away to their respective houses to guide the younger students in and attempted to keep their volume at a manageable level. He breathed a sigh of relief and pleasure at seeing the Great Hall as he remembered from his younger years and not as he had last seen it.

It was nearly impossible to reconcile the darkened room with blown out glass and the dead lying about with this warm, brightly lit hall. The glow from the candles floating effortlessly in the enchanted night sky lifted his spirits. Looking around, he realized that the students in this room were the only students who would walk these halls and remember the terror. Starting with this year's First Year students, no one else would walk these halls and remember the awfulness of the Carrows or the horrors of Voldemort's final stand. Every group of students ever after would come here with the same hopes and dreams that he'd had and would be able to enjoy a semester with no year-end feasts where Potter would miraculously win the House Cup due to beating Quirrell and Voldemort in the labyrinth Dumbledore had designed to protect the stone. No tournaments where a Death Eater would submit an underaged student's name in an attempt to kill them. No basilisks, no escaped Azkaban prisoners wandering the halls and torturing the portraits, no assassination attempts on headmasters… This would be the year they could have a normal educational experience.

Yes, spending the year in close proximity with Granger would be difficult, but he hoped he could make her see he had changed in time. He had nothing but time at this point and he intended to spend it wisely.

He saw Blaise had saved him a seat and he made his way towards his only true friend left in Slytherin.

~Hermione~

She lost herself in herding the younger students into Great Hall, sighing with the rest of them as they took in the Hall, once again restored to its former glory. She smiled, staring up at the head table where the professors sat, most looking like they'd aged far more than two years. (Had it really only been two years since she'd last arrived on the Hogwarts Express?) There was Flitwick, sitting on his elevator as usual. Slughorn had returned once more, glad to not have to face either Voldemort or Dumbledore. Trelawney was up there as well, looking as though she were boring Professor Sprout to tears despite the anxious look on the Seer's face. Hermione's smile widened as she saw Lupin back in his rightful place as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. It widened to the point of pain when she saw Tonks there beside him, filling in as the Transfiguration professor as McGonagall was now Headmistress and therefore unavailable to teach, much to her dislike. Even Madam Hooch was there, sporting a new scar from hairline to jawline courtesy of Yaxley. It made her bird-like eyes more arresting than before.

McGonagall stood and the students quieted as Hagrid ushered in the new First Years and the sorting began.


	4. Chapter 4

~H~

"Miss Granger!" McGonagall's sharp Scottish accent cut through the din, straight to Hermione's ears. Cormac McLaggen ushered her away saying that he could handle guiding the newly sorted Gryffindors to their common room and dormitories.

Weaving her way through the mass of students she worked towards the entrance to the Great Hall where she had spotted the Headmistress. As she arrived, Hermione realized she was not the only student Professor McGonagall had summoned.

 _He_ was there.

Of course.

They were both the Heads, which meant the Headmistress would wish to speak to them both. Hermione swallowed, hoping she could keep her dinner down. This wouldn't be the first time she would have to deal with him and she shook herself down, giving an internal peptalk.

 _You can do this. He can't hurt you here. You're in_ Hogwarts _. There is no danger. Pull yourself together, Granger, you are better than this. You can handle yourself, and him_.

Malfoy nodded at her and she nodded back.

There.

Civil.

"Follow me. We'll go to my office. It's louder than the Christmas party at the Hog's Head out here."

Hermione sniggered as she followed closely behind the tall witch.

As she came before the golden Gryphon, McGonagall said crisply, "Felis Sylvestris Lybica."

She glanced behind at her two students and said, with a twinkle in her eye, "It's latin for Tabby Cat."

Hermione laughed again and even Malfoy cracked a smile. Her laugh died in her throat as she remembered who she was here with.

Placing her tall, pointed witch hat on the hat rack that replaced Fawkes's stand, the headmistress gestured for the two to take a seat before the great desk. Hermione glanced up at the sleeping Dumbledore and frowning Snape before sitting on the edge of the chair and folding her hands delicately in her lap.

"I can imagine that this… situation may be something of a shock to you both."

Hermione's "Yes," nearly drowned out Malfoy's soft, "No."

She looked at him, furrowing her brow.

"You were both the top students in your class. This alone would have put you both in these positions."

"That should've been nullified by attempting to kill our headmaster." Hermione muttered under her breath.

"And yet, he did not. And Albus has assured me that Mister Malfoy here did not appear to desire the glory that would have come with the achieving of his task. I will remind you, Miss Granger, that Mister Malfoy is responsible for the capture of nearly fifty escaped Death Eaters and Voldemort sympathizers."

Hermione glanced down, appearing chastened but internally she was still disgruntled. She wanted to continue hating him and didn't have it in her heart to forgive. Hermione had tried, but her experiences had affected her too harshly. Sitting here beside him showed her again how impossible it would be for her to ever forgive the hand he had had in Voldemort's actions.

"Choosing the two of you, namely you, Mister Malfoy, was something that was met with much resistance amongst the faculty, as I am sure you can imagine"

Hermione snorted but McGonagall ignored her.

"This is a tumultuous time for our world. We must find a way to repair the damage Voldemort did to our world. He divided us sharply and it is crucial that we begin to address this as soon as possible. By having Miss Granger, who is not only well suited to the position but also a Muggleborn, take up the helm alongside Mister Malfoy, who carries the support of the Pure Blooded families, we can set the example. I need you both, I beseech you both, to _be_ that example. I have the barest information of the atrocities you were both party too, but I can understand the animosity between you two.

"Neither of you are hateful at your core. I do believe that. Of both of you," She looked pointedly at Malfoy. "I know you suffered more than most, Miss Granger. But I beg you to find it in your heart to assist us with this. Find a way to work with Mister Malfoy. Help me heal our society and our world."

Hermione stared at her, the woman she had so admired for nearly a decade. McGonagall knew what happened that night. At least, she knew as much as the rest of the Order. This woman had seen the scar, had heard the recounting of their time in the Manor from Ron and Harry in minute detail. How could she ask this of her? How _could_ she?

"I will do my best to assist you, Headmistress. I am willing to work together with Miss Granger if she doesn't mind working with me."

 _What?_

~D~

She looked utterly baffled. Draco didn't blame her, though he didn't know if she was confused by his willingness to work with her or because he'd called her "Miss". She didn't know his innermost thoughts and he knew he was hiding behind his usual mask of cool indifference.

Getting her to warm up to him would be a long and arduous process. He'd known that before walking into this meeting, but every second spent with her showed just how difficult it would be. He had a sneaking suspicion that no one knew the full extent of what she had gone through at the Manor. The repeated use of the Cruciatus had damaged her, without a doubt, but what happened after… He could see it afterwards. It had broken her spirit. There was a distant look to her eyes that never truly left, even when she smiled, not that she smiled all that often when he was in her presence. The desire to reach out, to help her open up, was nearly overpowering but he knew he needed to bide his time. She wouldn't willing lean on him. Not anytime soon, if ever. But he needed to start making his first steps towards healing their relationship, if you could even call it that.

"I realize that Miss Granger has every reason to not trust me. I hope she will be willing to let me prove that I have changed."

It still pained him to admit fault, he felt as though he were groveling which hurt his pride deeply, but this was his gallant move. His attempt to make things right. He only hoped it…

"Absolutely not. I cannot _believe_ you would ask it of me, Professor. After everything we've been through, after everything _I_ have been through? _How could you_?"

She was glorious in her anger, though he would have enjoyed it more if it hadn't been directed at him.

"He is foul. He is loathsome. He stood by and watched as I was tortured and mutilated and worse! He stands for everything we have fought against and the fact that you not only allowed him back as a student but as _Head Boy_ is unbelievable. It's ludicrous!"

McGonagall held up a hand and Hermione snapped her mouth shut, still breathing hard, skin still flushed, hair floating wildly about her as her magic stirred within. Draco rubbed his left forearm absentmindedly.

"I understand your sentiments, Granger. Trust me. Of everyone you know, I would hazard a guess that I am the only person who can truly imagine what you went through as I was a witness to it all. I cannot, and will not, make any excuses for what happened. It was horrific. It is a large part of the reason why I did my best not to fight during the Battle of Hogwarts. I didn't want him to win anymore than you, I assure you. He was a monster and a madman."

Hermione looked at him as though he had two heads.

"Please, Miss Granger," McGonagall asked, gently, "We need you both. This time in our world is critical. We must learn to live together. I have spent much time, both with Mister Malfoy and our previous Headmasters," she gestured to Dumbledore and Snape, watching silently from their portraits. "We all believe Mister Malfoy is genuine. I would ask that you try, for the sake of us all."

~H~

It wasn't fair. It was less than unfair. And yet, the logical part of her brain agreed. The rest of her brain was screaming at her to run far away and never return to the Wizarding World at all, but that sliver of her that was always, infallibly, horribly logical told her to at least try. If it didn't work, then so be it. If it didn't work, she would be able to claim that she had the right of it all along and he was a bastard, just as she thought.

"Very well."

Did Draco look relieved? It couldn't be. It had to be the flicker of candlelight on his face. He couldn't actually want to work with her.

Could he?

 **A/N: I've brought on a beta! (Finally) She's gone through and helped update some spelling errors. This chapter was the first of what I'm sure will be many. Thank you Cat!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Ch 5**

 **A/N: Thank you to all of my new followers, I appreciate your interest and I'm glad you want to continue seeing where this thing goes. As always, reviews are encouraged as they help me figure out what direction I want to take this tale.**

~H~

Classes began and Hermione tried to lose herself in the structure of it.

Wake up, prepare, go to breakfast, go to class, go to lunch, back to class, then dinner, patrols, and bed. Repeat.

Her schedule was full of Double Potions, Double Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Herbology, Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies, and the occasional free period. Nights were spent patrolling the halls wordlessly with Malfoy. She didn't speak to him in the Head Dorms, in class, nor anywhere else. She was not rude, but she was not polite. She was indifferent. She ignored him. That was as close as she was willing to get to abiding by McGonagall's mandate.

Malfoy, on the other hand, was positively chatty. He always said good morning and good night, held doors open, and talked about their classes endlessly to fill the void her silence left. It was positively maddening. He seemed oblivious to her glares. It grated her patience, the nerve of him.

"Oi, what's got your wand in a twist?" Tonks asked after a particularly grueling Transfiguration practical.

"Bloody Malfoy," Hermione said with a scowl, helping Ginny remove the feathers from her arm. The self-transfiguration had been entertaining, or it would have been if she hadn't had the voice of Malfoy rumbling into her ears the entire time as he and Blaise gave themselves fur and different hair colors and strangely colored eyes. She'd seen him with the strange ice-blue eyes of a husky and glowered while admitting it looked dashing with his already wintery looks.

"He seems...different," Tonks said carefully. "Lighter, almost. I get the feeling my cousin-"

"Ugh, don't remind me."

"I get the feeling he's changing. I know you don't like or trust him, but even you can see the difference, yeah?"

"Yes," Hermione said tightly.

"You know as well as I do that our world is trying to heal."

"You sound like McGonagall."

"And you are worse than Mad-Eye at cutting people off."

Hermione frowned. She knew she was being short with everyone. She couldn't help it. It was as if a different person, an angry cynical person, had taken over her body and turned her into the angsty teenager Harry had been back in Fifth Year. While she couldn't blame a mental connection to the most evil man in living memory, she could blame him nonetheless. Two days in Malfoy Manor had turned her into a stranger in her own skin. This wasn't her, but she didn't know how to be the old Hermione Granger any more. That girl was gone, dashed to pieces on the marble floors of the Death Eater stronghold, obliterated in the chamber she refused to mention. Resilience was something she'd prided herself on, and yet it had abandoned her. The person she'd become wasn't someone she recognized or understood. In the Muggle world, she would have been put in therapy. In the Muggle world this wouldn't have happened. For the first time since receiving her Hogwarts letter seven years before, she wanted to be normal. She wished she hadn't been born this way.

And there it was.

The crux of the issue.

Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, was no longer certain she wanted to be a witch at all.

How simple her life would have been had she never been born with whatever genetic mutation had given her these powers. This would have been her first year at uni. She might have a steady boyfriend, classes in things like History and Science and Math. Her parents would be worried about her partying or being out late instead of fighting a murderous sociopath intent on racial purification. Her greatest worries in life would be grades and her nightmares would be due to exams, not that bastard LeStrange. She might dislike people due to their differing political stances instead of their lack of action during her torture. Hell, she might even associate torture with a poor lecturer instead of actual pain and danger.

What a life that would have been.

~D~

This whole situation felt futile. Draco paced their shared common room, having gone there for his free period instead of the library as usual. It had been nearly a month and Granger was no longer directing her fury towards him but was instead a zombie. She was a shell. Granger was a living breathing person but appeared to have no soul. Her actions were robotic, her answers always accurate but monotoned, even when she was with her friends. During meals, he would watch her across the Great Hall and notice that even with her friends, she appeared distant.

Prior to the realization of his change of heart, Draco never could have imagined missing the fiery little Gryffindor. Her zealous devotion to her studies had kept him on his toes in class. Now, they were tied in class standings and he could even surpass her if he tried just a bit harder. He'd considered putting in the extra work to beat her to see if that would push her into being more competitive, but something told him the blow to her ego would only deepen her depression.

He'd heard that Muggles were prone to depression, but hadn't seen it often in his world. Days or weeks, even months, of melancholia. Loss of interest in daily tasks, increase in sleep, difficulty functioning normally: she appeared to have all of these. While he refused to force his presence on her when he knew it wasn't desired, he could still see the results of her insomnia and hear her nightmares when she finally collapsed, exhausted, on the common room wingback chair she favored.

Her cries and whimpers clawed at his heart. The desire to comfort her was nearly overwhelming, leashed only by the knowledge that awaking to him would worsen her condition. It was his goal in life to be someone who could comfort her instead of terrify, but damned if he knew how to be that for her.

"I'm telling you, mate, this avoidance and giving her time bollocks isn't working," Blaise said under his breathe. They were at dinner and Malfoy was watching her as usual. Neville and Luna appeared to be laughing at something Ginny had said while Hermione offered a weak lift of the corner of her lip which could hardly be called a smile. "Look at her. She was wooden at the beginning of term, but she's barely even functioning now. She may as well be dead."

Draco turned on his friend with a snarl.

"Don't speak of her being dead."

"Oi, don't give me that. You see what I see, and you see if far more often and at much closer distance than I do. Giving her space isn't working. She's got wards up that could compete with Gringotts. The more space you give her, the stronger they grow. She's almost completely cut herself off. If you don't start helping her take them down, she's either going to become a hermit or off herself."

Draco's glare intensified even as his stomach dropped. He hadn't considered that she might look to suicide. It didn't seem her style, and yet he had a feeling Blaise was onto something. Blaise was right. Giving her space and talking about classes and other banal topics wasn't getting him anywhere. At this point, he had nothing to lose. She despised him and he doubted he could make things any worse, so he would need to do something to get her to react, to feel anything, even if that feeling was anger. The once impressive Gryffindor princess was turning into a ghost as he watched and he was damned if he was going to let her die.

But how to get her to change?

They had a long patrol that night, and he had an hour to prepare.


	6. Chapter 6

~H~

Malfoy was silent. Finally, blissfully, silent. His diatribes on their current coursework generally started as soon as their patrols did, but tonight he was quiet. She wondered if he'd given up on McGonagall's ridiculous mandate finally. The only sound that accompanied them was the sound of their footsteps in the cavernous halls.

Then, he started to whistle. She glared and he ignored her and continued his merry tune.

"Stop it. If students are about, you practically announcing that we're on the way."

'She speaks!" He said, with a twinkle in his eyes.

She glared balefully at him, then looked forward and continued patrolling at a bruising pace.

"I didn't realize zombies walked this quickly," he quipped and she whirled around, nearly snarling.

"I am _not_ a zombie, I just don't want to deal with you."

"Oh really? Then why do you look like you have a foot in the grave even with your friends? They may not have noticed, but I have. You look like you're a thousand miles away."

"You know nothing," she said, marching back towards their dormitory.

"Ending patrols already? Are we letting the first years and Peeves run the school this night?"

"You can bloody patrol alone, but I am not putting up with your inanities tonight." She continued towards the portrait of the tiger that marked their entrance, but his long legs kept up with her easily.

"Tsk, tsk, Granger. You know I can't patrol alone. Something might get me."

" _Get you_? You are the thing that goes thump in the night. _You_ are what the students should fear."

"And yet they all fear you," he said, his body warming with the build of a good argument.

"How dare you!" She whispered, "I didn't attack innocent people. I didn't kill innocent people. That was all you."

"I didn't bloody kill anyone!" He said, truly angry now, using his anger to fuel her own rage. This was what he was looking for. Something more than the dead look she always wore. It was certainly gone now. He could almost see the flames leaping within her clear hazel eyes. "I wasn't going to go through with it and Dumbledore can affirm that, as can Potter if he feels like being honest."

"Don't act like a fucking victim here, Malfoy. Sneakoscope!" She spit the password at the portrait, making it swing open.

Draco followed her through the short passage into their common room, warm with the glow of the fire. He walked to the sideboard and grabbed a glass, filling it with the pumpkin juice he hoarded.

"Don't act like you're the only person who went through hell!" he shouted at her.

"You," she said, seething. "You have _no_ idea what it was like! To be broken like that… That bastard took away a piece of me that I don't know if I'll ever be able to get back. He, no, all of the Death Eaters, they reached into the parts of me that no one should ever have access to and destroyed me. I am not the person I used to be and it is _all their fault_."

She was flushed with rage and breathing hard. Shaking. She was at the breaking point and all of the pent up emotions and fears she'd hidden for so long were right there at the surface, at the cusp of boiling over.

" _I_ have no idea? I have _no idea_?" He was shouting now too. "I was in their midst for years! I was a child and they took _everything_ from me. You are not the only victim of this. The Order was not the only victim. They took-" his voice broke. "They destroyed me and unlike you, I had no gentle hands to care for me after. I had to pretend that everything they did, everything I witnessed, was fine. Was normal, for Merlin's sake. You think you received the worst of it, but you could still hold on to your innocence. You were forced, you never had to appear willing. You are not the only victim here. You and I are the same, Hermione."

He was nearly panting, his face ravaged with guilt and pain.

"You and I are the only two at this bloody school who can possibly understand. You aren't the only one left with marks and scars you can never be rid of," he ripped up his left sleeve, revealing the black mark that he could never erase. "You are not the only one in pain in this room and I would appreciate it if you would get off your pedestal of martyrdom and realize that!"

He threw his glass into the fireplace and it shattered. Draco stared into the fire and fisted both hands in his pale blonde locks.

His shoulders heaved with each breath. Like her, he too was barely in control. The horrors of things he witnessed flashed before his eyes, obliterating his view of the flames.

Hermione stood there, shocked, before plopping ungracefully onto the sumptuous wingback chair she'd claimed as her own.

It struck her like a bolt of lightening, the reality of her situation. The walls she'd built around herself emotionally and mentally felt weakened for the first time. She was not alone. There was someone who had survived, yet not. Someone who understood what it was like to have your very essence of self stripped from you. Someone marked for the rest of time by a brand of what they never wanted to identify with. Was it possible the only person who could see things they way she did, understand things the way she did, was Draco Malfoy?

Perhaps it was.

~D~

He could see the change almost immediately. Her shoulders slumped and the fight went out of her. A spark of hope lit in his belly, but he tamped it down. This was step one and only Merlin knew how many more steps it would take to get where he wanted to be, if he could get where he wanted to be.

"Please," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I know you have every reason not to trust me, but I need you to try. Try to let someone in. Me, Weasley, Longbottom, anyone."

"I-" her voice broke, and his heart along with it. "I c-can't."

The tears slid down her cheeks with no sobs to accompany them. She had too much control to allow her breathing to follow its own course, but he had a feeling she could no more stop the tears than he could undo her past.

"Gran-Hermione," he said her first name pointedly, reveling the feel of it on his tongue, "I was there. If you aren't ready to tell anyone else, you don't have to tell me much. I was there for Bellatrix's Cruciatus and dagger bit. I saw Rodolphus drag you upstairs and was told to guard the door so he, Bellatrix and Yaxley would not be disturbed."

Draco mentally kicked himself for saying their names. He didn't want to frighten her into recoiling from him.

"I heard… things," he finished lamely.

Hermione sat there in silence and Draco wondered madly if he had made a mistake, to tell her that he'd sat outside the chamber they'd taken her to. He took a step towards her and knelt beside her chair, placing his hand on the armrest, almost touching her but not quite. He was just about to apologize for overstepping when she started to speak; her voice so soft, it was barely a whisper.

"I thought they had me in there for days. Weeks, maybe. Bellatrix liked slicing hexes, similar to the Sectum Sempra, but more precise. Rodolphus was good at healing spells, strangely so considering… But I guess the dark side needed healers too."

Draco sighed in relief that she had referred to it as the dark side, and not _his_ side.

"Yaxley would ask a question, and she would cut until I screamed and screamed. Once the screaming stopped, because my voice went hoarse or I fainted, Rodolphus would heal me, revive me, and it would start all over."

Her voice had steadied and it was deadend now, as though she were telling a story about someone else.

"At first it was my arms since that was what was available. Then Rodolphus made a comment, wondering if it were true that we looked different than pure-blooded witches under our clothes. He'd heard that mu-mudbloods were… disfigured."

She choked up, cleared her throat and continued, steady once more.

"Bellatrix said they shouldn't dirty their hands with me so Yaxley spelled my clothes away and I was left, tied to the bed so I wouldn't move, with them just… looking at me. Bellatrix was furious that I looked just like anyone else, even more so when Rodolphus… he _smiled_ and said he would've 'played with muggle bitches more' had he known what we looked like.

"It was terrible. I felt like a bug under a microscope." Squeezing her eyes shut, a few more tears escaped while Draco took note to ask someone what a microscope was later. Hermione shuddered and Draco instinctively put his hand on her arm, squeezing. He took heart that she didn't immediately pull away.

"After that, Bellatrix cut deeper and longer in places none of them ever should have seen. Places none of them should have ever _touched_."

She began to shiver uncontrollably.

"And it just went on and on for what felt like hours. B-Bellatrix getting angrier and angrier that I wouldn't s-say anything, Yaxley suggesting places for her to slice, Rodolphus getting c-closer than necessary to heal me..."

From there, she was unable to speak. She wrapped her arms around her middle, pulling her arm from his touch at last, rocking back and forth on the seat and sobbing. She looked as though she were trying to hold herself together physically, as if she would burst into a thousand pieces if she let go.

~H~

The memories burned within her: the pain, the terror, the _shame_. The memories she had kept inside and revealed to no one now spilled for Draco Malfoy to hear, of all people. Why she told him, she did not know. Perhaps because he was the only one who knew that her torture had extended beyond the Unforgivables and carving of Mudblood on her forearm.

For weeks, everyone had told her she needed to give Malfoy a chance, and here she was giving him a bigger chance than she'd given even her friends.

She almost didn't notice when he slid her off of the chair to the floor, wrapping his arms around her and holding her against his chest. Her head fit snugly beneath his chin as he smoothed his hand over her hair, muttering soft assurances that she was okay and that she was safe now and that no one would ever hurt her like this again.

His voice was so soothing and his arms so strong around her that for a moment, she believed him. This was the first time she had let anyone hold her completely. Since her ordeal, she had allowed one-armed half hugs, but anything more she would duck away from. It was part of what had kept her and Ron from manifesting into anything more once the Battle of Hogwarts had been won. He had wanted more, something lasting, but she hadn't found the words to tell him that she couldn't abide to be touched.

Now, here she was. In the arms of the last man on Earth she ever thought she would feel safe with. The man who had born witness to all of her ordeals. The man who knew what she could not tell even her closest friends or family.

Here, in the arms of the man who had once bullied her mercilessly, in the arms of a man who had forsaken his family legacy, she finally felt safe.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait on this one. Lots of writing needed for Uni means less writing on this. I'm so grateful to all of you who have reviewed. Please, please keep them coming.**

 **And, HG4eva, I figured you'd appreciate that the story didn't follow your initial prediction. Thank you for all of your comments, as well as Lena2244, and annaea3077. Now! Back to the story.**

 **PS: this was beta'd by the amazing Cat. Thank you!**

~D~

Draco didn't remember making the decision to pull Hermione from the chair to his lap, but looking at the proud, defiant girl reduced to this… He couldn't have stopped himself if he tried. With his arms wrapped around her, he rocked her like a child while murmuring reassurances into her ear. His hands smoothed her frizzy hair and he tucked her head beneath his chin as if he'd comforted her a thousand times before.

How long had he dreamed of holding her in his arms? How long had he wanted to be the person she looked to for comfort? And now, here he was, on the floor of their common room trying to console someone who had been through a nightmare few could imagine. To be looked at and judged like an inanimate object, to have people treat you as less than human: well, it made Draco even more ashamed of his association with them than before, which wasn't something he had thought possible.

Draco had regretted joining the Death Eaters approximately three seconds after being branded with that damned mark. It had burned in such agony, Draco was certain he would die. He had wished to die. And yet, ever the dutiful son, he had clenched his teeth and borne the pain, refusing to make a sound. Afterwards, he had wondered who on Earth would put their supporters through such a thing, and then he had met the Dark Lord and been given his orders to kill Dumbledore. Seeing this man who was not quite a man had shaken Draco to the core. He understood now why people had obeyed him without question. The less-than-human face suggested he had less-than-human emotions, which meant he was capable of anything.

And he was. Draco had seen it again and again, from the Muggle Studies professor to the emotionless murder of his godfather. The shredded soul which had revived Lord Voldemort must have been miniscule to produce such a being. He was hideous and horrifying and would have been comical had he not been a homicidal megalomaniac.

It wasn't simply Lord Voldemort who was heartless. Had he been the heartless one and his followers terrified minions who followed him out of fear for their lives, that would have been one thing. But Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Fenrir, Dolohov, the Carrows: they loved him. _Loved_ him. They would have sold out their own children to the Dark Lord if it meant he would show them favor. It was monstrous. They were monstrous. All of them. He growled softly at the thought of Rodolphus seeing Hermione au natural; of seeing things he had no right to see.

Draco had heard the rumors of Muggles and Muggleborns looking different, but his mother had scoffed at it, stating that no Black descendent would have married a Muggleborn if they weren't pleasant to look at, and James Potter, though some generations removed from Dorea Black, had been a Black through and through from his flirtatious nature to his impressive magical abilities. He rolled his eyes, remembering that he and Potter were, in fact, distant cousins. To be fair, most Pureblood witches and wizards were related if one looked back far enough. The families had all intermarried to keep the bloodlines pure. _Ugh_. He was probably even related to a Weasley. He shut his eyes tight to clear his mind, and focused instead on holding onto the girl he had dreamed of for so long. He breathed in her warm, sweet scent, that intoxicating mix of warm honey and lavender and perhaps almond? He wasn't certain, but Draco hoped this would be the first step in getting close enough to her to find out in time.

Long moments passed before Hermione's breathing slowed and she had no more tears to shed. Draco continued to smooth his hand over her hair, the arm around her shoulders tightening subconsciously at the fear of her pulling away and never allowing him this close to her again. She sniffled and rubbed her nose on the sleeve of her shirt.

She sat up, but didn't shrug his arm away when he kept it wrapped around her back, nor did she move from his lap.

~H~

With red-rimmed eyes, she looked up into his clear grey gaze. These weren't the cold, condescending, judgemental eyes of her childhood bully, these were soft and concerned. She saw no judgement here, no scorn for her weakness, simply sympathy. Concern.

"I am...so sorry." He said, his voice deep and soothing. Draco shook his head, "That word is so inadequate. I cannot imagine how you must have felt, keeping this in for so long, but you don't have to pretend in front of me. Yes, I realize I would likely be the last person you would run to for a heart to heart, but I am here if ever you need me."

And in that minute, she believed him. In fact, her trust in him was so complete that she leaned into his embrace and said, on a whisper, "Thank you."

This trust wouldn't last, and she knew in the morning she would be wary of him again, but this was the first step. As she breathed in the scent of his cologne, something crisp and outdoorsy, she thought back to her friend from back home.

Camilla had been her best friend through primary school right up until Hermione left for Hogwarts. Camilla didn't know the truth, of course, she thought Hermione had gone to a boarding school in Switzerland, but they had remained friends.

Sweet Camilla, with no power of Divination or Legilimency, had realized something was wrong with Hermione the moment Hermione had gone home to spend time with her parents, recently returned and reverse-charmed to remember her.

"You seem sad, 'Minnie." Camilla had placed her hand over Hermione's.

"I'm fine, really. I just lost some of my friends in...an accident and I'm coping."

"No, I know that. But this is something deeper than that. This is personal."

"Their loss was personal!"

"I'm saying you seem like you're hurt too, Minnie. You don't hug your parents, or me, anymore, you always wear long sleeves, you aren't eating, you've lost weight… You have classic anorexia signs, but we both know you've never given a fig about your weight so there must be another reason for you to suddenly hate the sight of your own body."

Hermione ran a shaky hand through her hair.

"It was a rough summer, Cammie. Don't read too much into it."

"I've seen this, Minnie." Camilla grasped both of Hermione's hands, which were suddenly clammy.

"I saw this in my sister, Elizabeth. She never told our parents, and you can't tell anyone either, but Beth was raped at Uni. Mum and dad thought she was just angsty and trying to be a grown up, suddenly all anti-contact and refusing to talk to anyone in the family. It wasn't that at all though, she'd been attacked. Drugged, at a bar, and attacked. She only told me because she was on the verge of falling apart. She told me that she couldn't stand the touch of anyone on her skin because all she could feel was _him_. If people breathed loudly around her, if they surprised her by tapping her on the shoulder, if a stranger talked to her: all of it terrified her. And you have that exact same look, Minnie. Please, I'm your oldest friend. Please trust me. Are you alright? Did someone hurt you?"

Hermione had looked at her, felt the demons within clawing at her insides but she had pushed them down, refusing to acknowledge them.

"I'm fine, Cammie. Truly. It's nothing I can't manage. Just a rough summer."

"When you do decide to talk," Camilla had said before she left the next day, "Know this: Beth said it was the most painful thing she had ever experienced. The pain of finally opening up was excruciating. But the more she talked about it in therapy, the better it got. Don't take too long to lance this infection in you, Hermione. Keeping things like this inside… they can kill you."

Hermione had avoided Camilla the rest of her time home and had left for the Burrow shortly thereafter. She had scoffed at her Muggle friend, refusing to believe she could possibly understand Hermione's mind. And yet, as always, Camilla had been right.

Opening up, telling someone, even Draco sodding Malfoy, had hurt. It had very nearly hurt as much as the actual ordeal. To relive that night, to expose her suffering to someone else, had been excruciating. And yet, here in the aftermath, she felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. There was still pain, and she knew there was much she had to work through, but for the first time she believed there may be a way to work through this. Camilla had said it wouldn't be easy, and Hermione was certain it wouldn't be. One night's confession would not repair her soul, but it was soothed for the time being.

Hermione realized she'd been staring at Draco, into his eyes, lost in thought. She glanced down quickly and muttered an apology.

His hand gently lifted her chin until she looked into his eyes once more. "You don't need to apologize to me, Hermione. I am here, for whatever you need, be it comfort or spur of the moment staring contests."

Lifting the corner of his mouth in a half smile, she sputtered in laughter. He grinned fully then.

"Are you alright to stand now? I can get you a cool cloth for your eyes."

Hermione waved him away as she helped herself up. "No, no, I can manage. I'll run to my bedroom to get a handkerchief and when I get back we can go looking for the real Draco Malfoy because I'm quite certain you are a strange, kinder alter-ego who has snatched his body."

~D~

Draco's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and Hermione laughed again, a little more naturally this time. "Oh, come on. You can't pretend you don't know what I mean. I just broke down like a sobbing child and you, Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin patted me on the back and tried to comfort me? It's a bit… out of character."

He tried to frown seriously but his smirk ruined it. Her bravado was firmly back in place, trying to be strong after being so terribly weak, he thought.

"Yes, yes, go be a brave Gryffindor in your hunt. Your secret is safe with me."

She smiled at him then; a soft, trusting smile and he bowed in return as she went to her room and shut the door.

Draco Malfoy thought her smile was the most glorious thing he'd ever seen.


	8. Chapter 8

~H~

Dust motes floated above her bed, catching the sunlight that snuck through the crack in her bed hangings. Hermione watched the little specks of light, really watched them. She thought of nothing else, cleared her mind of all things but these little pinpricks of light, surrounding her like stars in a galaxy.

Clearing her mind was the only way she had found to cope with all that had happened to her. When the thoughts became too much, when the fear overwhelmed her, she would close her eyes and clear her mind of everything but the action of breathing in and out.

In.

Out.

Once all she noticed was the sensation of her chest rising and the feel of the air rushing in and out across her upper lip, she would feel: noticing the texture of what she felt, what she wore, where things were poking or pushing against her, where her weight was felt most.

Then, she would open her eyes and concentrate on the minutiae of details around her.

This morning, it was dust motes.

Once her mind was relaxed and clear, she allowed herself to think back on the previous night. She could feel a place on her chest that no longer felt constricted. Telling someone, anyone, had eased her soul as Camilla had suggested. Therapy wasn't something common in the magical world as they were still a bit behind the times in everything from electricity to mental health.

She had managed to sneak her phone into Hogwarts this year. She didn't use it often and had to recharge it by electrifying her charger with magic (she'd fried two phones before mastering that trick). She rarely used it, but last night was an exception. Hermione had needed to reach out to Camilla.

It had been late, but Cammie had always been a night owl. Hermione kept the details sparse, but had informed her friend that she had decided to talk to someone. Camilla's response to Draco's attempts to comfort her after she spilled all had been… well, classic Cammie.

"He sounds terribly good looking. Nordic, like a Viking. Mmm. And you said he's tall, yes? Perfect match for you there. He makes you look positively miniscule in the best way. Tall men _always_ give the best hugs."

Hermione laughed weakly, appreciating her friend's focus on the man instead of the confession.

"Sounds like he's got a soft spot for you, Minnie."

"Don't be ridiculous, Camilla."

"Oh, Camilla, is it? You must fancy him, too."

Hermione scoffed. "He's a git. I told you about him, you know he's an elitist prick."

"Such an elitist that he pulled you into his lap to comfort you? Such an elitist that he tried to make you feel better and offered to get you a cold cloth for your puffy eyes? I've seen you cry, Minnie. It's awful. Your face gets horribly red and splotchy, your eyes puff up like you've been stung by a bee, and your nose drips as much as your eyes. If a man isn't scared off by that, he's interested in far more than just an acquaintance."

Hermione harrumphed.

"I'm serious! You look positively frightful. Like some ghoulish creature in a horror film."

Hermione was determined not to give Camilla the satisfaction.

"Honestly, I'm surprised he didn't call an ambulance. Not for you, of course, you look like you're dying. He might've needed one from the strain of not bursting into laughter or screams of terror. Hermione Jean Granger crying is scarier than watching It in a theatre full of clowns."

She couldn't help it. Hermione broke down laughing and crying.

"I needed that, you prat." She said, once she'd caught her breath and wiped her eyes. "Also, you're a terrible friend."

Camilla laughed lightly, "I do try, dearest. Come now, do you have any idea how difficult it is to insult you? Granted, you had awful hair growing up, but ever since you found that new Swiss smoothing cream, your hair has been flawless."

Hermione smirked. The Curl-Eaz potion _had_ worked wonders. They chatted a bit more about pointless, feminine things, avoiding the original reason for the conversation.

As both girls began to tire, Camilla sobered up.

"I don't know what you experienced, Minnie, and I understand if you can't bear to discuss it. I am so glad that you talked to someone though. I know you say he's awful and a bastard, but I really think he may be something more. Something better than you give him credit for."

"You sound like everyone else at this blasted school."

"Minnie, if everyone thinks one thing, and you think another, there is a chance that you are right and they are all wrong, but it would be more logical that they are all correct and that it is you who is wrong. It's okay to think you are right and be wrong. It is not okay to turn a blind eye to the truth because you're determined to be right."

"I hate you for that, Cam."

"I know, Minnie. I love you, too."

Hermione appreciated Camilla's candor, maddening as it was. Camilla was one of the few people in Hermione's life willing to be completely honest, regardless of Hermione's feelings. Camilla did not coddle anyone, especially not her friends. It was of no use to anyone to be patted on the head while doing the wrong thing, Camilla said. And, as usual, her bull headed friend was correct.

Draco Malfoy had become a Death Eater. That was a fact. Draco Malfoy also said he had regretted it nearly immediately, and had failed to follow through on his task to kill Dumbledore as well as refusing to fight the Order during the Battle of Hogwarts. Despite his initial choice, it seemed illogical to assume Malfoy was just like the rest of the Death Eaters. Hermione could see that now. He had been a coward to succumb to Lord Voldemort's demands and he had been a coward to stand guard while she was attacked. However, he was still young.

It was true that Hermione and her friends had faced extreme danger nearly every year. If she held Malfoy to the same standard of Harry and Ron, he was a shite human being who deserved her scorn. However, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were not standard. They were the anomalies, not the rule. If she held Malfoy to the standard of a normal wizard of his age, she could not blame him for his choices. It wasn't fair to compare him to Harry or Ron because he had not been in their shoes. As children, the Golden Trio had been forced to grow up quickly thanks to the annual attacks by Lord Voldemort or the Ministry. While other students were dating and enjoying their adolescent years, the Trio were off managing giant siblings and smuggling dragons and finding horcruxes. They were the abnormal ones.

Hermione closed her eyes. Was it possible she had judged him too harshly? Malfoy _had_ been a bastard her first few years, but after Fourth Year, they hadn't had many problems. Was it possible he had started to veer away from his family's blood-focused beliefs even then? Was it possible he had changed completely? The answer was yes, of course. None of them were the children they once were. People grew up and people changed, every single day. Snape was proof of that, as was Albus Dumbledore.

She had judged Malfoy without allowing him to prove himself.

It was time that she gave him that chance.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thank you to Leontinees, riaroo400, Green Eyed Lana Lee, MatMan55, and HG4eva for all of your reviews!**

~H~

Hermione felt lighter. Brighter, even. It was as if her secret had made her world darker and with the first step towards moving forward, the world was just a bit sunnier than before.

Neville and Ginny noticed it at breakfast that morning. They had learned not to mention Hermione's moods or emotions as she was somewhat...unpredictable if she was upset. They both secretly smiled at one another when she wasn't looking. Hermione ate more, chatted more, smiled more, she'd even laughed and Neville and Hermione noticed it all.

What they didn't notice was the grey eyed gaze watching them with laser focus.

~D~

"Oi, mate, will you eat something instead of staring at her? First, it's embarrassing that you're this whipped by a girl who doesn't even know you're interested. Second, if you're not careful, everyone at this table will know you want her."

Draco looked over at Blaise with a sneer.

"While I appreciate your concern for my eating habits and reputation, I don't give a damn what anyone at this table thinks. If they are honestly going to judge me for my choice and women after we fought a war over this stupidity, then they can all bugger off."

With that, Draco did something that had never been seen by the current occupants of Hogwarts. He stood up, grabbed his school bag, and made his way over to the open seat next to Hermione.

"Mind if I sit here? No? Excellent. Have you picked out tonight's patrol route?"

A piece of bacon plopped out of Longbottom's mouth onto the table, disgusting Draco. The Weasley chit was staring dumbfoundedly as well, but had the decorum to keep her mouth shut and her breakfast inside instead of on the table.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, confused. Her face warmed, though she wasn't certain why.

"I'm discussing Head business. I would have thought that obvious."

"But, here? You're at the Gryffindor table."

"Am I?" He asked, raising his eyebrows. "Now that you mention it, there does seem to be an appalling amount of red ties around me. I clash awfully in my green."

He smirked.

She stared.

Rolling his eyes, he said, "I don't understand why you all seem so uncomfortable, though _I_ am feeling that as well since Longbottom's breakfast and drool seems to be accumulating on the table at an astonishing rate. That Lovegood girl with the carrot earrings sits over here all the time."

"They're radishes," Hermione said automatically.

"Radishes, carrots, some bloody root vegetable that my mother foisted on me as a child," Draco said, waving his hand carelessly. "She sits over here daily. Why should it be any different when I do it? Oh, do shut your mouth Longbottom. It's unseemly and unsettling my innards."

The shaggy haired Gryffindor closed his mouth with a snap. The female Weasley continued to ogle him like a blast-ended skrewt in a menagerie.

"Well," Hermione said hesitantly, "It's just… we don't generally get Slytherins sitting over here."

"Yes, yes, I know that, Granger. However, the whole point of the good guys winning the war was that we were supposed to move past all of that 'I'm better than you' rhetoric and division between the people of our world. Shouldn't that extend to houses?"

Hermione nodded slowly, looking at him as if he had three heads.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, I can see why none of you ended up in Ravenclaw. One change to the modus operandi and you're all rendered mute. You're all looking at me like I've got a goblin sitting on my head when I just took the first logical step in McGonagall's plan to 'heal our world' or whatever it is she's trying to do."

Luna moseyed over and sat down, seemingly oblivious to the shell-shocked faces of her friends.

"Hello, Draco. Are you sitting with us now?"

"Wha- Luna! Do you honestly not see an issue with this? You were imprisoned in his castle!"

Longbottom had regained his ability to speak and Draco wished the boy had stayed silent.

"He didn't imprison me, the Death Eaters did. Draco looked rather ill when they put me in the dungeons. I don't think he was as supportive as everyone else. Besides, he brought me extra rations when no one was looking. Thank you for that, by the way." The dreamy-eyed girl turned a smile towards him.

"You're welcome, Luna. See? I'm not a total monster."

The Weasley girl just shook her head but Hermione…

Yes!

She smiled at him.

"You're right, Malfoy. I think this is exactly what McGonagall was looking for."

He smiled back. He made a point to try and smile the way other people did and not with the smile that made him look like he was better than everyone else, at least that was how Blaise had described it. Draco found it was easier to smile naturally when he was genuinely happy and not putting on a facade.

~H~

Classes were intense that day and Hermione reveled in it. In Potions they were testing their Polyjuice brews. Ginny and Hermione laughed as they saw their friend transform into each other while Professor Slughorn watched approvingly.

"Gads, 'Mione! I knew you were shorter than me, but this is ridiculous. How do you reach anything?"

"Oh hush, Ginny," said Hermione, who looked just like the ginger haired girl herself, "I'm not _that_ short!"

"Ahem," Professor Slughorn was at the front of the class, attempting to hush the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. "The potions should wear off in approximately one hour, possibly longer if you took more than I recommended," he looked pointedly at Neville, who now looked like Cormac, who blushed. This shouldn't affect your studies as I believe all of you should be going straight to lunch from here, yes?"

The class agreed in unison.

"Excellent. You all may surprise the younger students when you transform back into your rightful faces mid-meal, but you are all going to have to go to your actual classes, and not your partners." Here, he looked pointedly at Seamus and Dean who had been not-so-discreetly discussing going to each other's next class to try and impersonate the other. The boys looked down dejectedly.

"Enjoy your chance to be someone else! I have nothing more for you today."

Ginny and Hermione walked out of the dungeon classroom together to make their way to the Great Hall when Ginny cursed.

"I left my favorite quill on the desk. Go ahead and save me some dessert, if you wouldn't mind," said the Weasley girl, turning on her heel and trotting back to the classroom. Hermione shook her head, wondering if her hair had always looked so unkempt in the back before heading up the stairs towards what smelled like French Dip sandwiches.

~D~

After their light banter at breakfast, Draco felt comfortable enough to try and persuade Granger to join him on a study date that evening before rounds. Not that he would call it a date. He knew he needed to take baby steps to avoid her bolting, as much as it pained him.

As luck would have it, he saw her sprinting through the dungeons towards the Potions classroom as he left the Slytherin dormitories where he had been enjoying a free period with Blaise.

Draco waited outside of the classroom until she walked out, tucking a quill into her bag.

"Afternoon, Granger."

"Oh!" She said, looking shocked that he was talking to her. "Erm, what do you want?"

"First, I just wanted to say I hope you're okay after last night. I know it was difficult for you, but if you ever need someone to help you out, I'm here. Unless last night was an anomaly in which case we can pretend it never happened."

"Uh," she said, biting her lip.

"Right. Sorry. I can understand why you wouldn't want to talk about it. We'll pretend it never happened."

"Yes, that's probably best," she said slowly. Granger seemed terribly uncomfortable and he kicked himself for bringing it up again. He'd wanted an ice breaker and had failed. Badly.

"Right. That's not what I meant to talk to you about."

"Oh?"

"I wanted to see if you wanted to meet me tonight. In the library. To study, I mean."

"That, uh, I mean, I'm not sure I can…"

"Oh," he said, disappointed. "I was hoping we could work on our Ancient Runes paper together."

"Why don't you ask me later. I have, uh, some things to figure out first."

Why was she acting so strange around him? He was used to contempt, scorn, sarcasm, quick wit, and instead he had her mumbling and stuttering around her words.

"Look, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Like I said, we don't have to rehash last night. I want to be your friend, Granger. I'd like us to be closer."

Draco wasn't sure why he was being so forward but with her acting so oddly, he wanted to get something out of her. Some sort of reaction.

"How close?" She stared up into his eyes and he lost himself in those pools of hazel gold. There was a wisp of a curl caught in her eyelashes that moved with each blink, of which there were many. His hand reached up and tucked the spiral of hair behind her ear and before he even realized what he was doing, he leaned towards her.

Eyes bugging out, she leapt back with a stuttered apology and excuse and bolted up the stairs.

Bollocks.

He'd made the wrong move _again_.

~H~

Ginny came dashing into the Great Hall, face flushed bright red, before she sat next to Hermione and started talking a mile a minute.

"What in the bloody hell have you been doing with the bleeding Head Boy, Hermione Jean Granger?"

Hermione stared at her, dumbfounded. Had Ginny found out about her opening her soul to the Slytherin?

"What on earth are you talking about, Ginny?"

"Draco Malfoy started talking to me about not having to talk about what happened last night and then _I think he tried to kiss me_."

Hermione's eyes got even bigger, if that were possible.

"Hermione, I need you to be honest with me. Promise me."

"I, uh, I promise."

" _Did you sleep with Draco Malfoy_?" Ginny looked at her, deadly serious.

"Did I _WHAT_?"

Ginny wasn't an overly discreet person, and her voice, which Hermione now possessed, had a pitch that carried. Far.

Half the Great Hall turned to look at the two girls, who started whispering furtively.

"He apologized for what happened last night and said it never had to happen again if it made you uncomfortable. What else would he have been referring to? A particularly in-depth Divination assignment?"

"What? No. First, I don't bother with Divination. Second, we didn't sleep together we…" Hermione didn't know how to finish that sentence. She couldn't tell Ginny what happened. She thought it would be easier, after opening up to Malfoy, but the truth was that she still wasn't ready to discuss it with everyone. So what could she say instead?

"You _DID_! I can see it on my face! You're blushing! I blush terribly easy so you can't possibly lie when you're wearing my face. I _knew_ there was something more between you two after this morning, but I didn't expect… That's bloody hilarious. You and Malfoy. _You_ and _Malfoy_. I can't believe it. Was he any good?"

It was a solid thirty seconds before Hermione was able to pick her jaw up off the ground.

"Why aren't you angry," she asked, suspicious.

"Oh, well, uh" Ginny's face, or rather Hermione's, blushed as well. "I, uh, I mean… After Harry and I decided to take a break until we'd both grown up a bit more, I may have started seeing someone."

An almost feral grin crossed Hermione/Ginny's face. "Oh, ho, really? Is ickle Ginevra dating a Slytherin and hoping she's not alone?"

Ginny/Hermione blushed harder. "I don't know that I'd say _dating_ but we've been talking for about a month."

"And snogging?"

"Only twice!"

Hermione burst into laughter, changing from Ginny's body to her own as she did so.

~D~

He watched her from his table as she whispered to the Weaslette. Her face looked panicked. Kicking himself mentally over and over, he watched the two girls go back and forth. It was obviously a big conversation, and he cringed when the ginger haired girl squealed "What?" at the top of her lungs.

Granger had obviously told her what happened and he flushed, embarrassed. He should've known that, despite all of her maturity, she was still a woman and would rush to tell her friend the latest occurrences in her life. With his hands on the table, he prepared to push himself up to walk over and apologize when the Weasley girl threw her head back in laughter and her skin started to bubble and change in a manner that both disgusted him (and most people watching) then shocked him to his core. The Weasley girl had turned into Granger and… sure enough Granger's hair turned a fiery red and she shot up in height. In fact, all of the Gryffindor 7th years were changing into someone else.

The truth of the situation hit him like a bolt of lightning.

It was Polyjuice testing day and he'd just tried to kiss the wrong bloody girl.

 _Bollocks_.


	10. Chapter 10

~H~

After lunch, Hermione spent the rest of her classes half-focused. She did what was needed of her, but her mind was spinning wondering what on earth had happened between Malfoy and Ginny. As intrigued as she was at the thought of Ginny Weasley dating a Slytherin (Who? Zabini? Nott? There weren't any other decent looking choices from the 7th years…) her mind kept straying to Malfoy's actions.

Had he really tried to kiss her/Ginny? Ginny was always seeing flirtations, even in situations where there clearly weren't any. Perhaps Malfoy had just been trying to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. The night before, he had done exactly that so that's likely all it was, right?

Yes. Of course. Despite his uncharacteristic kindness during her breakdown, he was still _Malfoy_. He may be less of a prat, but he wasn't going to suddenly go around snogging Muggleborns. That would take more than a change of heart for someone like him. It would take a lobotomy.

Hermione sniggered at the thought, earning her a chastising look from Professor Sprout. Hermione returned to pruning her Deadly Nightshade and pushed all thoughts of Draco Malfoy from her mind.

~D~

He couldn't get that afternoon out of his mind. Draco had bollixed up his attempts to court her, which turned out to be serendipitous as it hadn't been Granger at all. But that look in her eyes… it hadn't mattered that it wasn't actually her inside those eyes because now he could imagine what it would be like to lean in and kiss her. The Polyjuiced-Weasley had leaned in and softened her eyes just a smidge before realizing what was happening. Or, rather, who it was happening with.

It was good the chit had leapt back. Draco wasn't sure how he would have been able to transition from kissing Granger, to finding out he'd kissed Weaslette instead, to trying to convince the real Granger to let him kiss her. Being that close to having her willing in his arms… It was that dream that had kept him sane those years with the Death Eaters. Not just Hermione, mind you, but any sane woman, looking at him as though he were a desirable man.

No, a _good_ man.

Voldemort and the Death Eaters had stolen that from Draco, too. His hopes and dream of ever being a good man, a _normal_ man. He'd never realized how important that was to him as an adolescent until the chance had been taken away. Even now, even ten years from now, he knew that the brand upon his forearm would keep nearly everyone in his world at a distance. It had once been a mark of honor, then a mark of darkness, and now it was his mark of shame.

And yet, Granger had opened up to him. That had to count for something, yes? She was tight-lipped, even around her dearest friends but she had laid open her demons for him. Her gesture of trust was enough to keep the hope alive that someday, with what would likely be a lot of effort on his part, he could regain some sort of positive reputation in their world.

Now if only he could determine how to get the real Granger to kiss him.

~H~

"Did you try to kiss me?"

Draco nearly spat out his pumpkin juice and stared at her, blushing like a little boy.

Hermione had spent the entire walk up to the Head Dorms mentally laying out strategy on how to best approach what had happened. It would have to be subtle, she could use the circling technique: discuss something in such a roundabout way that the target didn't know or remember what information you were looking for. There were a dozen ways she'd figured out to approach the issue. And then she had walked through the door and all of her plans went out the window and she blurted out the question with zero finesse.

Blast.

~D~

Draco coughed, clearing the spiced juice from his windpipe. "I, ah, am shocked you would ask that, Granger."

She cocked an eyebrow as she saw him attempt to inject a little of the Malfoy swagger into his demeanor. It wasn't working.

"Really? That's fascinating, because Ginny was _certain_ you were aiming to do exactly that, and she has quite a bit more experience than I."

"Perhaps her _experience_ led her to expect something that wasn't going to happen." He paused, eyes softening. "Besides, I am still something of a gentleman. The last thing I'd do after what we discussed would be trying to assault your person."

Hermione softened, then bristled as she listened. " _Assault my person_? You were going in for a peck, not a bloody shag against the wall, or did Ginny leave out some details?"

"No, no. I was merely fixing your, ah, her hair. It does that little flippy thing over your ear and generally you smooth it down but it was sticking up and…"

"Oh." It was Hermione's turn to blush. He'd noticed that one errant curl that had maddened her for as long as she could remember. "Well, thank you. I'm sorry she misinterpreted it. I, ah, I have to study to bed. I mean study and go to bed. You, ah, know what I mean. Good night!"

He watched her as she bolted to her room.

"Good night, Hermione."

~H~

She was mad. Positively, absolutely mad. There was no way she was actually _disappointed_ that he hadn't tried to kiss her.

Being touched was torture for Hermione. It was why she had pushed Ron away. It was why she pushed _everyone_ away. Every hug, kiss on the cheek, caress reminded her of _him_ and the way they had all looked at her. She fought the urge to take a shower, knowing that the sensation of feeling dirty had nothing to do with actual grime and everything to do with the memories running through her mind.

Hermione closed her eyes, breathing slowly.

Deep breathe in.

Out slowly.

Calming breathe in.

Breathe out, releasing tensions with it.

A few minutes of breathing and she felt level again, able to think about what had happened with a cool sense of logic. Malfoy had said he didn't intend to kiss her. Ginny assured her that he was going in for one. Which person did she believe? Which person did she _want_ to believe?

To be honest, before he'd opened his prat mouth, Hermione had thought him cute that first year. Then the hate and superiority had spewed forth and her girlhood crush had been quickly snuffed.

But now…

Malfoy was changed. She hated, _hated_ , to admit it but he genuinely seemed like a new man. A little less cocksure, and little more humble, and lot more understanding.

Looking back at her day, she could remember the thrill that came with the shock of hearing Ginny's tale of the encounter. Just now, she'd been almost insulted that he wouldn't admit to trying to kiss her. She scoffed at herself.

Great.

She was insulted that Draco Malfoy didn't want to kiss her. She rolled her eyes skyward, wondering what on earth was happening to her.

~D~

What on earth was happening to him? He couldn't get her off of his mind. _And_ he had this sudden desire to never call her Granger again. He knew there was a figure in Muggle mythology named Hermione, as well as a Shakespearean character in Winter's Tale. Despite their devotion to all things Wizarding, his mother had a soft-spot for Shakespeare and he had grown up on the lessons of Hamlet, Romeo & Juliet, The Taming of the Shrew, and so forth. He liked the name Hermione. Enjoyed the way it felt in his mouth as he said it. They had stuck to calling each other by last names thus far, barring his whispered use of her given name as she closed her door tonight.

Perhaps if he started using her first name, she might begin to thaw.

A man could dream.

~H~

The next morning Hermione awoke exactly seven minutes before her alarm, breathing heavily. Waking, gasping for air, was the usual for Hermione thanks to the nightmares that had plagued her for months.

Today was different, however. Today she hadn't dreamt of Yaxley, Bellatrix and Rodolphus but of Malfoy.

And Malfoy hadn't been hurting her.

Not. One. Bit.

Hermione Jean Granger blushed from her frizzy, bed tousled hair to her sock-covered toes before shaking her head. She didn't want this. She thought she might last night but she couldn't let him see, couldn't let anyone see, what they had done to her. Shaking her head again, she got up to get ready for the day.

As was her usual, she ran around in shorts and a sports bra while doing her hair and getting her clothes laid out. It was when she tried to get out of her shorts that things went south.

A foot got caught, she hopped on an uneven stone on the floor and…

"Ouch!"

She fell and hit her head on the edge of the bed.

Hermione was grasping the back of her head, which felt as though it might be bleeding, clad only in her underthings with shorts around her ankles.

The door swung open with a bang and a shouted, "Hermione!" as Draco Malfoy burst in.

 **A/N: Beta love for Cat!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Okay, okay, this is even shorter than the last. It's super short. But I'm drowning in homework and I'm sorry but I managed to jot this down quickly and… I didn't want to leave you all with that cliffhanger. AND I wanted to celebrating hitting over 100 followers!**

 **Thank you MatMan55, HG4eva, GreenEyedLanaLee, and the Guest. Your reviews keep me coming back to this. They're like a really good guilt trip. Please, please keep reviewing.**

 **Beta Love to Cat!**

~D~

As he bounded through the door, Draco saw her sprawled on the floor, hands clasping the back of her head, wearing next to nothing. This should have been any man's dream, to see the woman he fancied almost au natural.

But it wasn't Draco's dream.

In his dream she was pale skinned, long legged, body absolute perfection, round in all the right places. Her skin would be almost translucent. Pearlescent.

Instead, he saw scars. A hundred of them, maybe more. They were like stripes of watercolored purples and pinks, not the angry red they'd likely started as nor the pearly white they would someday fade to.

And even with her body marred as it was, she was still the most glorious creature he had beheld. The scars didn't diminish her beauty, but rather enhanced it with proof of what she endured. What she survived. These scars were a sign of her resilience.

What diminished her glory was the look of shame on her face. No woman, marked or unmarked, should ever have shame in her own body. Draco was a firm believer that all women, no matter the size or shape, were beautiful in their own way. And Hermione was no exception. In fact, he now fully believed that she was the epitome of everything he had been looking for. Draco hoped she couldn't see the want written all over his face, for even as she lay there in pain and covered in scars, he felt his baser animal urges claw its way to the forefront of his mind wanting to make her his own.

~H~

She stared at him in shock, then burned with shame. Fleur had seen the scars following their escape from Malfoy Manor, and Ginny and Mrs. Weasley had seen them while trying to spell the marks away. Those three were the only ones who had looked upon the marks. Ron and Harry knew only of the Mudblood written on the inside of her left forearm, and their reaction to that had been enough to keep her from ever wanting them to discover the rest. It was a large part of why she had separated herself from Ron. She didn't think she could stand the looks of pity she would surely see on his face if he saw her in her entirety. No woman, regardless of scars or not, wants to reveal themselves to a man only to face a look of _pity_.

Draco's face was not marked with pity, however. In fact, he looked at her as though she were Venus, rising from the sea. He looked entranced. He looked as though he _desired_ her. That, however, was ridiculous. She knew what she looked like. Hermione had spent countless hours, locked away in her room in the Burrow, staring at her reflection. She'd counted every scar, could outline each and every one even while bundled up in a parka. No man could look at her and see beyond those marks; that proof of what she'd experienced. And yet… Draco appeared to be doing exactly that.

~D~

Shaking himself from his trance, Draco snapped to the side, looking away from her.

"I, ah, heard you shout and wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine, just knocked my head," she said, barely above a whisper.

"Would you like me to escort you to the hospital wing?"

"No, no, I'm fine," she said, breathing heavily. It sounded as though she was trying to stand and having a hard time of it.

He turned around as she came upright, then swayed and began to fall. Draco rushed to her side and caught her round the waist. Those big doe eyes looked up into his own, slightly unfocused, and he froze. She was in his arms, looking up at him as he had dreamed of all those nights. The internal battle against his baser desires was difficult, but came to naught as her hand reached up slowly and traced the line of his jaw before cupping his cheek.

It had to be a dream. A perfect, made up dream, because his reality couldn't fathom having Hermione Granger pull his face towards her, eyes fluttering shut, chin lifted and ready for…

It was a kiss, and so much more than that. Her lips were satiny smooth and pillow soft and she made a soft, sweet noise as he brushed his lips over hers again and again. It was heaven and hell all at once. It lasted no longer than a moment but felt like an eternity yet nowhere near enough. Draco lifted his head and looked down upon her, waiting for the regret, the shock, _something_ to prove this was a fluke, never to be repeated.

Instead, she gazed into his molten silver eyes and smiled.

"I'm glad you didn't kiss Ginny."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I am SO sorry it's taken so long. Again. Midterms and papers are the devil's work. I do apologize for the shortness of the last chapter and this is about double the length.**

 **Thank you, thank you, midnightmagic007, HPG4eva, greeneyedlanalee, and lesauterell for your WONDERFUL reviews. Thank you especially to Lena2244 and leontinees for helping with guiding this story a bit. First few paragraphs are based on Lena2244's commentary, and Leontinees, you should be able to figure out which part you inspired.**

 **Thank you again for still reading, you wonderful little Harry Potter nerds you. Please please keep the reviews coming.**

 **~Pooka**

~H~

"I'm glad you didn't kiss Ginny."

It slipped out of her mouth before she truly had a chance to think about what to say. What _did_ one say after kissing one's childhood nemesis?

Draco chuckled and she felt the reverberations from his chest and diaphragm against her skin.

Her very bare skin.

"Ohmygoodness!"

Hermione startled him with with her shriek and she leapt away, losing her balance once more, requiring Draco to catch her. Again. She stared up at him, startled and resembling a doe once more, though a much more surprised, but perhaps not altogether frightened, one. Draco deftly snatched her robe from the end of her bed and helped her into it, giving her some sense of modesty, before helping her get seated on the edge of the great four poster. Looking up at him then, her mind went far beyond its usual maddeningly fast pace. She'd bounced back and forth between whether or not to let this new Draco become a friend, and possibly more, far more than she ever thought possible. Perhaps it was the blow she took to the head, or maybe that kiss which was still sending pulses of heat through her body, but she was decided now. Hermione would see where this situation with new Draco led. If it led to a friendship, so be it. If it led to a relationship, she'd deal with the repercussions. If it faded into nothing, then she would be grateful to his friendship and support in the meantime. This bouncing back and forth between what to do was not her style and her entire body relaxed at having finally made a decision.

Smiling at the pewter gleam of his eyes, she said, "Thank you."

~D~

"Are you sure you're all right?"

She was eerily calm considering she'd smacked her head, kissed him, realized her lack of clothing, and panicked. It was a wide range of emotions, even for a woman. Draco hid a smirk at the thought. _Best not to say that bit out loud_ , he thought.

"Yes, yes," she waved him down, back to being his practical witch. "I'm sorry about that."

"About hurting yourself, kissing me, or panicking after?" He asked with a sly grin.

"Panicking. Thank you for keeping a steady mind and nabbing my robe. I'd forgotten where I'd placed it considering…" she blushed, which was still something of a shock to him-who knew the brightest witch of their age could be embarrassed of anything?-but it was charming nonetheless.

"Of course. I was raised to be a gentleman." He waggled his eyebrows at her and she laughed lightly, her blush fading.

"I would like to take you up to Madam Pomfrey," he said, tone brooking no argument, "You've been woozy twice now."

Hermione mumbled something that sounded remarkably like, "It wasn't from my head last time" but he hid a grin and folded his arms, trying to channel Lucius's commanding figure.

"Do you need assistance getting dressed?" He found himself trying not to blush as he thought of dressing her, buttoning up her white school shirt or zipping up her skirt. The idea of dressing her was nearly as enticing as the thought of _undressing_ her. What a change that was.

Hermione blushed scarlet.

"No, thank you very much. I can manage. I'll be quite careful. Shall I meet you in the common room once I'm ready?"

"Yes," he said huskily. "That will do."

~H~

For the rest of the morning, Draco followed Hermione, watching her constantly for signs of feeling faint. It was sweet, if aggravating.

"You _can_ take your eyes off of me for longer than a blink. I'm not likely to suddenly collapse. Madam Pomfrey gave me a dose of Pepper-Up Potion and some gag worthy concoction to aid in the healing of the concussion. I'm quite well, I assure you."

Her haughty tone did nothing to dissuade him. Neither did her large, whooshing sigh.

"Malfoy-"

"Draco," he corrected.

"Yes, yes, fine. Draco, if you keep hovering, all of Hogwarts is going to assume you and I have gotten swept up in some grand romance, a la Romeo and Juliet. Is that _really_ what you want?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he said with an attempt at a sneer. "I'd rather not have to drink poison while mourning your supposed death. That would put quite a damper on our final year of classes."

He grinned and the corners of her lips tugged into a smile whilst she attempted to look down her nose and be serious.

"I'm not entirely joking, Mal- ah, Draco. If you act like this in the Great Hall, every table from Hufflepuff to the Professors will be gossiping and thinking you and I have suddenly fallen for each other."

His grasping of her wrist, forced her to slow her walk and look up at him once more. "Would it be the end of the world if they thought that?"

Her heart stopped, then began beating most irregularly. This was it, then? This was where they would finally try to open that door? There were less romantic spots than the hallway near the Charms classroom, made slightly better by the fact that no one else was yet wandering the halls due to the early nature of her wake-up.

An elegant pale hand lifted and tucked an errant curl behind her ear.

"I don't want this to be a one-step-forward, three-steps-back situation, Hermione. I've waited too long to find someone good. If you need time, space, anything at all, all you have to do is ask. My only request is that you take this one step at a time, always in a forward motion. You can take big steps, little steps, tiny shuffles, I don't mind. Just move forward. With me."

The earnestness in his eyes burned brightly through the stormy grey. Hermione lifted a hand delicately and placed it over his, which now cupped her cheek.

"What is the first step?" Her voice was hesitant, but she knew he was right. They were all right. It was past time for her to regain control of her life and move forward. If that move was with Draco, so be it.

"The first step is admitting that you don't hate me."

Her eyes widened, and then she laughed. He looked affronted and dropped his hand.

~D~

"Draco," she said, laughing out his name in a manner that he enjoyed greatly, despite his current state of embarrassment. "Do you remember what I did third year when I hated you?"

"Do you mean the cursing, or the punching?" He lifted one aristocratic eyebrow in the manner that all Malfoy men had.

"Both." She grinned. "I hated you that year. And I proved it by cursing you and punching you. This year, I've agreed to work with you, I've spilled my guts to you, I've cried on you, and I kissed you, then followed it by saying I was glad you hadn't kissed Ginny. While anything beyond this is still up for interpretation, I believe it is safe to say that I no longer hate you."

~H~

The smile on Draco's face was possibly the largest she'd ever seen on him. It was positively radiant. And then he wrapped his arms around her and she froze.

He immediately loosened his grip and apologized.

"No, it's okay. I was just surprised," she said, waving it away and trying to control her shivering. "I'm, ah, just not used to being touched these days."

"Keeping people at a distance?"

"It was easier that way." And it had been, especially at the beginning. However, now Hermione was realizing how much she missed human touch. She craved it now as a starving man craves food after a small crust of bread. Immediately following their time at Malfoy Manor, Hermione had needed that space from people. She needed that distance more than food, water, or sleep. Any touch, no matter how light, had been positively agonizing. Once the physical pain faded, the mental pain continued. Every touch felt like his wand, slicing along her flesh. But now… The fear was there, but the pain had faded. Hermione couldn't be sure when, exactly, the pain had stopped, but Draco's hug, which would have had her on the floor writhing at the beginning of the Summer, had now merely startled her.

"That's okay," he was saying, pulling her mind to the here and now. "Like I said, only steps forward. Be vocal with me. Teach me your boundaries. I'll try to be better about asking before touching, and you tell me what you need or can't handle. We're a team now and we'll muddle through this together. You're not alone anymore."

Hermione was not prone to feminine emotions, at least she hadn't been prior to the adventures she'd had with Harry and Ron the previous year. But now… She'd learned that crying and screaming and punching things could be cathartic. However, allowing herself that catharsis meant that she didn't have the tight lid on her emotions that she'd once had and now cried whenever there was a reason to. Draco Malfoy telling her she wasn't alone anymore was definitely one of those reasons.


	13. Chapter 13

~D~

Blaise noticed the change immediately.

"You're bloody cheerful this morning. Either you tripped a first year down the stairs or Granger finally gave over."

Draco smirked.

Blaise choked on his black pudding.

"You can't be serious? She actually gave over?"

Draco's smirk turned into a full grin. It made him feel like a ridiculous school girl, but he was positively blissful. The rational part of his brain told him to settle down. Be a man. Be an _adult_. Reassuring himself that this was happiness and not a childish giddiness, he nodded shortly to Zabini.

"Merlin's beard. I didn't actually expect her to succumb to your rogueish charms, Draco, but I am quite impressed. Well done, man."

"Don't leap too far ahead, Blaise. She's merely agreed to at least try and give this a chance. She's got… a history to work past. I'm simply offering her support."

"Support and comfort, more like. And I know exactly what kind of comfort a girl with emotional issues needs." Blaise waggled his eyebrows.

"She doesn't have emotional issues." Draco snapped.

"Oh ho, touchy are we?"

"Bugger off."

Blaise snorted and the childhood friends grinned at each other.

"In all seriousness, I'm happy for you, mate. I think you've met your match in her. You need a challenge, and I don't mean her past. She's brilliant and can put you through your paces."

"You make me sound like a prize horse." Draco didn't appreciate the comparison. His parents had harangued him endlessly about the importance of breeding, discussing potential future brides the way one would discuss a dam. It had revolted him, which was part of the reason he had dallied with Pansy Parkinson. Pureblooded though her family may have been, her father was less skilled than Lucius and her mother was…focused on less academic pursuits. The Parkinsons had lacked the elegance and poise required to breed with the Malfoy line, at least that was what his father had heavily hinted at.

"I rather like feeling like a prize horse," Blaise said with a sly grin. "Stallions are virile. They ripple with muscle and not an extra ounce of fat anywhere. Plus, they get to spend their retirement being put to stud and covering mares."

Draco chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Do you ever think of anything else?"

"I have. I am currently."

"And what is so fascinating that it's drawn your mind from your future exploits?"

" _Her_."

Draco followed Blaise's dark, fiery gaze to the Gryffindor table where Hermione and the Weasley daughter laughed together. Draco felt a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth. It was good to see her looking more relaxed and happy. Then, he realized who Zabini must be staring at and barked a laugh that caused the people around them to glare at the disturbance.

"You cannot be serious, Z. The Weasley girl? She's positively shrewish. That tongue of hers could slice you to ribbons."

"I'd rather see what else that tongue could do," Blaise said with a smile Draco knew well. His oldest friend had a habit of picking a filly (now _he_ was stuck using horse references) and pursuing her relentlessly. Normally, Draco assumed Blaise would be victorious in his pursuit. However, Ginevra Weasley was a different animal and Draco was looking forward to his friend's campaign.

"She absolutely magnificent on the Quidditch pitch. Have you seen her yet?"

In fact, Draco hadn't. A fact which Blaise knew well. Blaise had replaced Draco as the Seeker on the Slytherin team. The reasons he gave included focusing on his studies more, but the truth was that he didn't want to have to deal with teammates seeing his shame. The mark was resistant to glamour charms and all of the concealment charms he'd tried. It couldn't be removed. It was the perfect representation of the black mark the Dark Lord had left on his life.

Permanent.

He wasn't the only one afraid to show skin. He knew Hermione was equally paranoid about her scars being seen. Draco had naively assumed that the Mudblood inscription from his aunt was her only scar and only when he'd barged into her room did he realize the full extent of her injuries. The carving on her forearm appeared to be the most bothersome, however. Draco noticed that she, like he, rubbed her forearm when she was nervous, upset, anxious, angry, concerned, or any other mood outside of happiness and rage. When he was happy, he was able to forget about his mark. When he was angry, he was too focused on channeling that energy outward to be able to calmly rub his arm.

Draco wondered if perhaps it would be useful to open up to Hermione and tell her some of his secrets. Their situation felt oddly one-sided and he didn't like it, though he wasn't exactly eager to reveal his worst memories to anyone. However, given that she had poured out her soul, perhaps she would feel better if there was some reciprocity?

Shaking his head, he looked back at Blaise to follow the rest of his friend's ramblings on the fiery haired minx he'd set his eyes on. Draco surmised that he'd never know what Hermione wanted, or didn't want, unless he asked. Making a personal note in his head, Draco decided to be completely honest with her, no matter the circumstances. If this was going to segue into a relationship of the romantic sort, Draco wanted there to be no lies between them. Both of them had spent more than a decade surrounded by habitual liars, from Lucius to Dumbledore to Snape. Lies had sent them on journeys they never expected, nor wanted. If the Golden Granger and he were going to make it, they couldn't follow that example: lying to the people they loved.

No. It was honesty, or nothing.

~H~

"Move forward. With me."

Draco's words hung in her head throughout the day. For the first time since Malfoy Manor, she felt like she had someone to lean on. She didn't have to feign strength anymore. With him there to support her, she could gain her strength slowly. Steadily. She could lean on him as needed, then walk away when she had strength of her own.

But no.

That thought didn't sit well with her either. Hermione was realizing that she didn't want to walk away. After pouring her heart out to Draco, a part of her had been convinced that he secretly laughed at her or that he'd run and tell Zabini and the rest of the Slytherins. But he had done nothing. Then, this morning, he had found her hurt and in dishabille. Instead of laughing, he had looked terrified. Then hungry. And for the first time since the Manor, that look of desire had not repulsed her as it had with Ron. Now, it inflamed her as well. She'd felt, finally, the red hot need. It was like the roar of a beast within her, exclaiming her status as a woman who is desirable and has desires.

Hermione shook her head. Tawdry romance-novel nonsense. She shook her head again. Her life wasn't run by her baser needs, but by the logic of her brain. There was no guarantee she'd be able to handle much beyond kisses. Having Draco's hands on her had been bearable during that kiss, but when he went to embrace her the instinct to stiffen and pull away had ruled supreme. It would take ages to move beyond that. There was no promise she _could_ move beyond that.

But for the chance to have a normal life? She damn well would try.

~D~

It was late and Draco was hunched over a desk in the common room writing furiously away on a potions essay he'd put off. Hermione had left dinner before him and had been in her room when he arrived back after his discussion with Blaise.

After much internal back and forth, Draco had decided to offer the idea of reciprocity to Hermione. If she wanted to hear his stories, she was welcome to them. If she had enough to worry her mind on her own, then he would let her know the offer was there and leave it at that. Building trust was paramount now. As much as he'd like to sweep her off her feet and kiss that obstinate little nose of hers, he knew that patience was a better choice. Let her come to him. He'd just have to be patient.

Draco adjusted the front of his trousers and scowled.

Really, _really_ patient.

Scratching away again on the parchment, Draco nearly missed the soft scrape of a door on stone. His writing slowed for a moment before he continued on. If she wanted to speak to him, she could do so. Draco felt rather like a dog catcher, waiting quietly for the creature to emerge so he could grab it. He snorted. Capturing her to place her in a cage wasn't his plan. He wanted her to be free. Free of pain, fear, anxiety.

So focused was he on keeping himself calm that he missed the whisper of her socked feet on the stones. The soft touch of her fingertips on his shoulder startled him enough to nearly overturn his inkwell.

Her slim fingers steadied the well and deftly corked it.

Draco put down his quill slowly and turned to look up at her.

Brown waves, glowing from the light of the fire, framed her pale face and large chocolate eyes. She was worrying her lower lip with her teeth but her eyes smiled at him.

~H~

Hermione raised one hand, proud at its lack of tremor, and cupped his face. There was no backing down now, she was determined.

Leaning forward, she brushed her lips lightly across his.

Once.

Twice.

~D~

Draco craned his neck to meet her and their lips fused hotly for a moment before she pulled back, smiling with soft eyes that would bring any man to his knees.

"Goodnight, Draco."

And then she was walking back to her bedroom and Draco found himself staring after her long after the door had shut.

 **A/N: Beta Love to Cat!**


	14. Chapter 14

~H~

The following weeks were...wonderful. It had been a long time since she'd been able to define anything that way and the change was welcome. Blissful.

After the night of her brief kisses, Hermione and Draco had fallen into a routine. They'd walk down to breakfast together in the morning, accompany each other to class if they were heading in the same direction, eat lunch at their respective tables, go to class together again, grab dinner to-go from the Great Hall, then eat together while studying in their common room.

The house elves had caught on to their routine and had simply began to send up their evening meals to a newly placed dining room table near the window of the common room. It was a cozy, enjoyable routine that Hermione looked forward to daily.

She liked the simplicity of it.

She especially liked their nightly kisses.

The kisses remained short and sweet: sometimes feather soft, other times firmer, but always brief. Draco seemed almost rigidly restrained even as she leaned into him, though he never complained. Quite the opposite in fact. He always appeared to enjoy those moments of intimacy with her, if his smile was any indicator.

After a month though, Hermione began to wish those nightly kisses would last just a hair longer.

Okay, she wanted them far more than a hair longer.

"It's ridiculous, Ginny. I smell his cologne and it's like my entire body perks up. It's embarrassing."

"It's desire, dearie." The red-head gave her a Cheshire Cat grin.

Hermione blushed and walked a bit faster. Ginny wasn't wrong. Her best friend was rarely wrong about anything emotional when it came to Hermione. But here? Here was she dead-on. Hermione wasn't certain what to do about it though.

"He never tries to make the kiss last though. It's always sort of a lean-in, quick-peck, pull-back kind of thing. It never lasts more than a breath."

"Hermione Jean Granger," Ginny stopped and pulled Hermione into an empty classroom. "You fought Death Eaters and helped hunt Horcruxes and survived Merlin-knows-what at the Manor. You are a strong, independent woman. The next time he leans in to give you some brotherly peck, you grab him by the ears and send your tongue to tonsil town!"

Hermione lifted an eyebrow impossibly high. "Well, that was… graphic. Thank you, Ginny dear. But that's not entirely what I meant. I was talking about more than kisses. He promised to be there for me and help me move forward, and I'm reasonably certain that he wanted some sort of relationship beyond friendship, but I'm not entirely certain how to say that I want more but I don't want everything. I want the kisses and the cuddling and the typical relationship stuff, but when it comes to-"

"Sex?"

"Yes," Hermione's voice jumped up an octave and she flushed bright red. "I don't know how to deal with that."

"Well, Hermione. When a witch and a wizard love each other very much…"

"Oh hush, Ginevra. I know what sex _is_. I've just not had it and the last time I had a man see me in my altogether it was rather horrifying."

"The Manor?" Ginny asked carefully, not knowing much of what had happened that night.

"Ah, no," Hermione cleared her throat. "It was Draco and-"

"IT WAS WHO?!"

"Hush, Ginny!" Hermione waved her hands at her friend, certain a professor would burst through the door. "I hit my head while changing and he saw me in my underthings. The thing is, there's an awful lot of reminders of the past, well, everywhere and if, _if_ , we get to that point, I don't know how to explain that I don't want him to see me. Or see them, I should say."

Ginny looked at her with such sympathy in her eyes that Hermione had to look away. Even after all this time, the sympathetic looks cut her to the quick. She didn't want sympathy. Sympathy suggested there was something wrong with her. That she was damaged somehow. Hermione wasn't damaged. Or maybe she was. Either way, she certainly didn't want other people to see her that way. She'd already been completely helpless at the hands of LeStrange. Reliving that feeling of weakness was abhorrent.

"Well," Ginny said flippantly, trying to smooth over the moment of sadness, "You could always tell him you're into the kinkier things and make him wear a blindfold."

Hermione's eyes grew round as saucers.

"Oh, don't look at me that way, 'Mione. Kinks don't make people _bad_ , it just means there's different strokes for differen-"

"Ginny, you're a _genius_! A blindfold! Why hadn't _I_ thought of that!"

Hermione positively skipped out of the room whistling, leaving a very surprised Weasley behind.

~D~

There was something different that night. Hermione had begun to smile at him more and was certainly more chatty than she had been, but her smile was different. It wasn't simply a pleased look. It was more sensual. More hungry. She looked like a woman who wanted something and he adjusted his napkin to hide the evidence of what effect that smile had on him.

A change in a woman's smile wouldn't have registered on Draco Malfoy's radar a year ago. Hermione was a different breed altogether. Never had he been so attuned to someone's emotions. These days he could tell when she'd slept poorly from nightmares versus late nights homework. He could tell whether she was still pondering a class based on how much she ate at a meal. And now, now he knew that she was seeing him as more than a friend and confidant. Their goodnight kisses had been a slice of both heaven and hell for him since he delighted in the chance to be intimate with her, but knew he had to stay restrained and deal with her friendly approach to the kisses as opposed to the animal hunger he felt inside each time she came near.

Her smile now was certainly more animal than friendly. She had the smile of a woman who knew what she wanted and how to obtain it, and Draco was willing to be a participant. His groin twitched. _More_ than willing to be a participant.

A scrape on the stone floor made Draco look up from his dinner of shepherd's pie to see Hermione excusing herself from the table. Old manners turned habits had Draco immediately rising to his feet to assist her with her chair.

"I'll be heading to bed then, Draco." She looked up at him, her whiskey eyes smoldering up into his warm grey gaze.

"Yes," he said.

"So, I guess this is goodnight." Her skin flushed a delightful rose.

"Yes," he said, slowly sliding his hand up her throat and gently cradling her face.

Her sooty eyelashes swept down to rest against her cheeks and her face tilted up to his. One glance of those pillowy lips was all it took to take away his restraint.

Finally, finally, his mouth took hers. This was not the soft, gossamer kisses of late, but a real kiss. He ran his tongue along the seam of her lips and she opened for him, winding her arms around his neck. They were lost in each other, tongues parrying and tangling together, his fingers threading through her curls, bringing her closer to him, holding her head at the perfect angle. She pressed her body against his and he could feel her heart pounding alongside his.

~H~

Hermione now understood why so many female students had followed Draco like puppies on a lead. It wasn't his family's prominence or his money or his breeding. It was this: the change from cool and composed Malfoy to a wildness she had never experienced. His mouth was scorching against hers, hands holding her tightly to him, invading her mouth as if he possessed her entirely. Her head swam with it.

One hand stroked down her spine, pressing her to him until she wasn't certain where her body stopped and his began. Hermione felt almost feverish. Her hands unable to remain still, running from his hair to the nape of his neck to his arms to his chest. She wanted to know every inch. The kisses they'd shared before had been lovely, as had most of the kisses she'd experienced in her admittedly limited past. Nothing had ever been like this, however. This burning, fiery, wild passion. And it was only a kiss!

~D~

He was losing all control. Draco had prided himself for years on his almost inhuman control in situations with women. Hermione was no ordinary woman, though. Touching her, kissing her, was like setting fire to tinder. He'd let go of his control by an inch and she'd unraveled it all. No man should desire a woman this way. It was madness. To want someone as he wanted her was to know that there wasn't a thing he wouldn't do to have her forever. Draco would have given anything to live in that moment for the rest of his life.

However, life doesn't give a fig about living in moments forever.

At that moment, there was a loud tapping on the window and the two head prefects leapt apart. They both looked at one another, breathing heavily, looking more than mildly shocked, though pleased.

Then the tapping began again.

Draco opened the window forcefully, nearly knocking over the elegant Horned Owl who promptly ruffled his feathers and hopped inside, holding out a leg with a note attached.

"It looks as though Potter needs you," Draco said, holding the missive out to her, sealed with gold wax stamped with a lightning bolt. Merlin, Potter was a prig with an inflated sense of his own worth. Scar shaped wax seal. Ridiculous.

Hermione plucked it from his fingers, then looked up into his stormy grey eyes.

"Thank you," she said, rising on her tippie toes and pressing a hot, not-so-brief kiss to his lips.

He was still watching her hips sway away (perhaps with an exaggerated sway?) when she closed her bedroom door.

Draco groaned.


	15. Chapter 15

~H~

Blood pounded in her ears. Hermione felt powerful. Sensual. Neither was a sensation she ever thought she'd feel again, but she did. The idea of going further still bothered her, but it wasn't because she feared Malfoy.

His touch wasn't repulsive. It surprised her that there hadn't had a flashback to the night at the Manor, as so many instances of human touch had caused previously. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Being with Draco, feeling his hands skate over her body had brought pleasure, not pain. It was liberating. Hermione felt as though she had finally shaken off the chains that LeStrange had heaped upon her. They weren't gone, she wasn't naive enough to believe that, but for tonight she felt lighter.

To celebrate, she called Camilla.

"Minnie! It's been much too long. Has that horrid school been keeping you buried in books?"

Hermione grinned, just hearing her friend's voice. "You know as well as I do that I bury myself in books, regardless of whether school demands it or not."

"Yes, yes, I know. Bookworm. How are you? Have any more damsel in distress moments with the nordic hunk you were complaining about last time?"

There was a pause while Hermione tried to sort her thoughts. Camilla was never one for patience and squealed loudly enough to make Hermione hold the phone away from her ear.

"I _knew_ it! Oh, tell me you've decided to join the rest of your school and see him as a good guy. Please tell me that you decided to look past his childish antics and see that he's grown into a super hot, sweet guy who is dashing and gentlemanly and romantic and _totally_ into you!"

"You're acting like you've met the man, Cam."

Camilla huffed into the phone. "Obviously not since you keep all of your school friends away from me, since obviously you see me as a totally gauche embarrassment. However, Frederick tossed me over for some bint he met during a weekend in Italia and I'm living vicariously through your mystery man."

"Well, his name is Draco Malfoy..."

"Did his parents not like him as a child?"

Hermione sputtered a laugh in a most unladylike fashion. "No, just into older names."

"They named their child Dragon. He must have been positively beastly. No wonder you didn't get on. But dragons kidnap princesses for themselves when they have a horde of gold…. Does your dragon have a horde of gold?"

 _Something like that_ , Hermione thought. "No idea, but he's not beastly anymore. It started slow. Slower than slow, actually, but tonight we shared a kiss. I mean, we've been kissing, but it's been friendly. This...wasn't."

"Friendly kissing?" Camilla made a very French sounding noise. Hermione had heard Camilla's mother, a Parisian to her core, make that exact same sound when she was brushing someone off. Not that Hermione would tell Cammie that she was turning into her mother. "Lovey, you should never kiss a man in a friendly matter. There should be two categories: family kisses and lover kisses. Never give a lover anything but a lover's kiss."

"He's not my lover!" Hermione probably should've said that bit quieter, the old oak doors weren't as soundproof as they appeared. Draco was probably in his room reading by now, she hoped. "But he's certainly more than a friend tonight."

"Tonight? Honey, with how happy you sound, this should happen every night for the near future. I haven't heard you this giddy in a long, long time."

~D~

"He's not my lover!"

Draco raised an eyebrow and looked towards the Head Girl dorm. He'd heard a shriek early that was strangely tinny and definitely not Hermione's. Now, this. Perhaps she was flooing someone?

Must be.

Draco moved to the armchair closest to her bedroom door and pretended like he wasn't straining his ears to listen.

~H~

"So, is this going to be a kissing thing, or a relationship thing?"

Leave it to Cammie to ask the blunt question Hermione had been avoiding.

"I… I don't know."

"Oh yes you do. At least, I'm certain you know what you _want_. Do you think _he_ wants that too?"

"Okay, yes. I know what _I_ want, but I'm not certain about him. His family would hate me."

"Who could possibly hate you?"

"You'd be surprised. His family is extremely uppity. Honestly, it's a marvel that he's gotten as relaxed as he is." And it was. Draco was completely different than he had been. It was still surprising. There were times when she'd see a flash of pale blonde hair and feel the sneer coming to her face in preparation, and then she'd remember that the bully of her childhood was no longer a bully.

"Uppity, eh? Well seeing as both of your parents are dentists his family would have to have a horde worthy of a dragon to look down on you."

Hermione could hear the smirk in Cammie's voice.

"Ha ha, yes, okay? His family is well off. However, that holds no interest for me. Draco is kind, sweet, understanding, patient, and… he's sort of wonderful."

She was startled to realize it was true. He _was_ wonderful. The idea that she could think of any former Death Eater that way was surprising, but there it was. Draco Malfoy was wonderful.

~D~

Draco smiled and made his way to his bedroom as Hermione and her friend said their goodbyes.

~H~

The next morning, Hermione spent a little longer than usual with the Curl-Eaz and her dress. Not that she got to choose _how_ to dress, per se, but her tie had never been neater.

Draco was waiting, as usual, in their common room to walk her to class. She found herself smiling shyly, feeling absurdly girly. Girly was not a term she'd ever used to describe herself, but when his eyes sparked the way they were now, she couldn't help it.

"Morning," he said. And, without any warning, tugged her towards him by the lapels of her robe and kissed her. It was swift and hard and made her knees feel like jelly.

 _Pull yourself together, Granger_ , she told herself furtively in her mind. This wasn't her. She wasn't the kind to flirt and go woozy over men.

He kissed her again and she realized that, perhaps, it was okay to occasionally be the kind of girl who goes woozy over men.

~D~

"It's starting to freak me out, mate. You're _always_ happy."

Draco was wearing a shit-eating grin and Blaise rolled his eyes.

"You can't give me shit, _mate_. I've seen the starry eyed looks that flame haired minx keeps shooting your way."

Blaise looked over to the Gryffindor table and winked, making the Weasley girl blush.

"Point made," Draco said.

"Well, what can I say. That lioness confidence just does it for me."

"You look almost dreamy. It's revolting."

"Just wait, Malfoy. You'll get there."

He looked across the Great Hall to her. She was always lovely, but today there was something _more_ about her. It wasn't just that her hair looked smooth and shining, she looked happy. Blissful. And he realized that he wanted her to look that way for as long as he could make it last. He wanted her. She made him feel as though he too was good. And that was a feeling he wasn't sure he'd ever had.

"We'll see."

~H~

"Wotcher, Hermione!"

"Hi, Tonks! How's little Teddy?"

Dora's hair turned tickled pink, clashing terribly with her orange robes, as she leapt into a story about how her cub, as she called him, was learning to turn his baby fuzz from aqua to red depending on what it was he wanted at the moment. Hermione thanked whatever higher power had protected Tonks and Lupin during the Battle of Hogwarts. Classes with both of them were ever an adventure and Tonks had enjoyed teaching each of them to turn their pets into book bags, goblets, and whatever item struck her fancy. The animals seemed to know instinctively what day they were going to be taken to Transfiguration and would disappear, requiring the students to use the school's rats and owls instead of their own creatures. Crookshanks had deemed the Head Dorms not up to standard and was residing with Ginny in the far warmer Gryffindor Common Room, where the bird watching was better.

"Did you hear that the boys are coming to visit?"

Hermione and Ginny's heads both jerked towards the door.

"Not now, you fuzzy-headed neggles! They'll be at Hogsmeade this weekend. Harry and Ron both got a break from Auror training and decided to come down. They wanted it to be a surprise but with you," she glanced at Hermione, "always on duty and _you_ ," she lifted an eyebrow at Ginny, "off galavanting with some new man, I figured I'd give you both a heads up so you'd actually go this weekend. It isn't healthy for you both to spend so much time in this old castle."

Hermione's stomach sank. She and Ginny looked at each other with a mix of horror, then humor. The boys were going to kill them.


	16. Chapter 16

Ch 16

~H~

"I mean, they can't get _that_ angry, can they? We're adults. They left. The blood and house feuds are over."

"Have you managed to convince yourself yet?" Hermione asked with a wry grin.

"No, but I will. They can't make me feel guilty for being a progressive, well adjusted, red-blooded woman."

Hermione shook her head, brunette curls dancing about her face. While she appreciated her friend's backbone, she was concerned about the boys' reactions to their current relationship statuses. Ginny wasn't as blatant in her relationship with Blaise as Hermione was with Draco, but it was obvious enough when they shared glances across the Great Hall at meals. Ginny kept surprisingly mum about it all, unless Hermione got some firewhiskey in her system. Then, it was a task and a half to get the fiery Weasley girl to cool her ardor and stop waxing on about Blaise's countless abilities.

"They'll react to how we present it," Hermione said. "If we acted concerned or nervous, they'll jump on that because they'll know we think we're doing something wrong. If we act as though this is nothing out of the ordinary and don't care what they think, they may start out a touch baffled, but they'll learn to deal with it."

"Right, absolutely. Completely." Ginny had the same penchant for mumbling as her brother did when he wasn't entirely confident.

Hermione would have pushed the conversation further, but they had reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and if Peeves' braying laughter behind them was anything to go by, they were about to be late.

Professor Lupin had the same tatty old briefcase he'd used their third year of classes on his desk and seeing him there as a professor once more warmed Hermione's heart each and every time she walked into the classroom.

"Books and quills away, wands out. We're doing a practical lesson again today," he said in the voice that was both relaxed yet commanding. Ginny and Hermione plopped their bags on their chairs and patted their pockets for their wands. Satisfied, they followed Professor Lupin out the door and around the corner to the same corridor that had led to their Boggart lesson. Hermione leaned over to ask Ginny what she thought they'd be working on, but realized that her friend was a few paces behind, pale fingers intertwined with Zabini's mocha ones. Instead, Draco was beside her.

"Didn't notice me?" He asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Hmph," she said, smiling. "Thought I smelled something ferrety."

"I'm terribly hurt and offended, Granger. That was a terrifying experience for me. Not the ferret-turning, though that was uncomfortable in and of itself, but going into Crabbe's trousers…" He shuddered. "I've considered going to a MediWitch to have that particular memory wiped. Awful, I tell you."

They laughed as they entered the classroom, then stopped short when they realized how silent the students had become.

"No need to worry," Professor Lupin said with a wry grin. "He doesn't bite. We just need him here to practice our spellwork today."

There, sitting atop a very old cherrywood chest, looking much better than his old photographs from the Wanted posters, was Sirius Black.

"As I am sure most of you know, with the reappearance and subsequent suicide of Peter Pettigrew, Mister Black was cleared of all charges and the Ministry has been working to atone for a dozen years of false imprisonment. I assure you that, despite his surly looks," here, Lupin stomped on Sirius' foot, "he is actually quite a good man and one of my oldest friends."

"Oh, bugger," Draco muttered. "He's looking right at us."

Hermione glared at Sirius and took Draco's hand in hers. Sirius' frown deepened.

"Today," Professor Lupin continued, ignoring the silent communication between his best friend and his "nephew's" best friend, "We will be learning the Patronus charm. Now! I have heard it told that many of you practiced this in a club during your 4th or 5th year, depending on who you are, however as wonderful a teacher as I am sure Mister Potter was, I still think it best that you learn in a real, sanctioned classroom environment. If any of you have experience, please move to the right side of the classroom. Those of you who do _not_ have experience, move to the left."

Hermione and Ginny waved at the boys as they went to opposite sides of the room. The right side consisted almost entirely of Gryffindors while the left was made up nothing but Slytherins.

"Right. When faced with a dementor, they need happiness to feed off of. You don't want them feeding off of _your_ happiness, so you cast a Patronus, which the dementors will then feed off of instead. A fully corporeal Patronus can even chase them off.

"First, you will need to find a happy memory. The happiest you can find. Let it fill you until you feel that happiness within you. Then, point your wand as so," he lifted his, "and say confidently 'Expecto Patronum.'" He gestured to the class.

"Expecto Patronum," they parroted.

"Good, good. Now, who would like to show the class? Miss Granger, I believe I've seen your corporeal Patronus, yes?"

Hermione blushed but moved to the center of the classroom. She thought of the day she'd found her parents in Australia and reversed their memory charm. When she could feel the joy in her fingertips, she swished her wand and said crisply, "Expecto Patronum!"

A silvery otter burst forth from the tip of her wand and danced and swam around the room, drawing sounds of awe from the students who had never seen one. She was quite fond of her little Otter and had named him Oliver. Not terribly original, but she had had a terrier as a child named Oliver and the name had stuck with her.

The next hour was spent with the experienced Patronus casters working with Sirius while Professor Lupin worked with those who had never cast one.

"Ah, it appears Mister Malfoy has gained the hang of it," Professor Lupin said, and then choked. Sure enough a fully corporeal critter had come forth from Draco's wand and was now dancing around his head. Hermione turned to look to congratulate him and then stumbled on her words as well. There, prancing around the Slytherins, was a silvery otter. Her chocolate brown eyes met his warm silvery gaze and she understood then that she had vastly underestimated Draco Malfoy.

This sudden friendship of theirs, her reversal of how she saw him, was new. Hermione assumed the desire to be something other than enemies was new to him as well. But this? Hermione had known only one other "couple", if you could call them that, who had had matching corporeal Patronuses had been Lily Potter and Severus Snape. Lily's Patronus had been the doe to James' stag, but Severus hadn't been the other half of her Patronus, he had had her _exact_ Patronus. And here was Draco, with hers.

To be fair, for all she knew, Oliver was a female otter and Draco's was a male. But that still came to the same conclusion: he loved her. He had to. This wasn't new to him, this wasn't a lark. This was real.

Slowly, Hermione and Draco became aware of the silence, then avid whispering, of the students around them.

"Wonderfully done, Mister Malfoy. You may move to the right side of the room to continue practicing with Mister Black's group."

The class went on a bit longer until the rest of the Slytherin students were producing at least a wisp of silver. Then, Professor Lupin moved to the front of the class and put his hand on the chest.

"Sirius, if you would." Professor Lupin gestured, and Sirius moved beside him.

"As I am sure you all know, Mister Black had the misfortune to be wrongfully imprisoned at Azkaban for a number of years. He has had more exposure to Dementors than almost any person alive today and therefore is essential for today's lesson. We have a boggart here which will assume the shape of whatever the nearest person fears the most. In Mister Black's case, that would be a Dementor. We should all be very grateful that he was willing to be here today to give us a Dementor to work with. You will each come up to the Dementor and try to produce your Patronus charm. The boggart will mimic the effects of a real Dementor, but remember the reality will be far worse."

With that, the students formed a line and Professor Lupin threw open the chest. A large, black, hooded beast came from within, its breath rattling and the air around it freezing.

Student after student cast a Patronus, some worked better than others. A few of the members of Dumbledore's Army were able to push the "Dementor" back into the chest, which gave Sirius what appeared to be a much needed break.

At the end of the lesson, most of the students were running off to lunch at the Great Hall to brag to their friends about their Patronus. Hermione and Ginny remained, as did their men. The Slytherins slipped their fingers between those of their Gryffindors and awaited the judgement from two of the foremost Order members.

~D~

Sirius Black was a scary son of a witch. There was no getting around it. A dozen years in Azkaban, even with five years to recover, took a toll on a man. In fact, with more meat on his bones, he was even scarier looking that his mugshots. He looked like the kind of guy who would toss his wand to the side and punch someone he didn't like.

And it currently looked like he _really_ didn't like Draco.

"'Mione. Ginny." He nodded his head towards them, never taking his eyes from Draco.

"Sirius! Lovely to see you," Hermione leaned her head to the side to try and catch his eye. Reluctantly, he looked towards her.

"Isn't it just _wonderful_ that we've all managed to move forward from the war!"

Her voice was overly chipper and Draco had a hard time aligning this Hermione with the girl he'd come to know over the last few months.

"In fact, if things keep going the way they've been, why you and I might end up cousins! At least, I think we'd be cousins. You're so much better at genealogy than I am, Dray, what do you think?"

She smiled up at him in a way that completely dazzled his poor, unprepared eyes. It really wasn't fair the pull she had on him.

But wait.

Cousins? She wanted to be a relation? But that would mean...

His eyes widened before he slipped on the Malfoy mask of indifference.

"Perhaps. I think we'd be once removed or something of the like since my mother was his cousin. Could we check that on the tapestry, cuz?" He looked up at Sirius and almost lost his composure. Luckily, he'd had a lot of practice dealing with the Dark Lord and his father. However, he'd never dealt with a man trying to protect someone they saw as a daughter. As it turned out, Draco was far more afraid of angry father figures than he ever had been of the most evil wizard of all time.

He pulled Hermione a little closer.

Lupin, who had watched their little budding romance and had obviously kept that tidbit from the Order, clapped a hand on Sirius' back and laughed.

"Well, what do you know, Sirius! Not only are you related to Harry and Ron, you'll be related to the third prong of the Golden Trio as well. Isn't that wonderful!"

"Yes," Sirius said through his teeth. "Lovely."

Lupin whispered something under his breathe to his oldest living friend and Sirius' shoulder relaxed, then he laughed.

"Merlin, guess it really _is_ a new era, isn't it, _cuz_?" Sirius cocked an eyebrow at Draco and the Slytherin relaxed as well.

Ginny then mentioned the time and they all hurried off to grab a quick lunch before their next round of classes.

Sirius watched them leave with a bemused look on his face.

"How the hell did that happen, Moony?"


	17. Chapter 17

~H~

"Well, well, look at that, Yaxley. Guess this one is more than a pretty face."

The hoarse laughter made her shiver harder.

A feminine sound of disgust cut through the room. "How can you find _that_ pretty, Rodolphus. I can smell the dirtiness on it. It's revolting."

Hermione knew she was the "it" being referred to and the lack of a personalized pronoun just made it worse.

"Are we just going to sit around and discuss the Mudblood's attributes, or are we going to find out how they got that bloody blade?" Yaxley's voice was as sharp as Bellatrix's dagger. And it was sharp, but there was something on it. Logically Hermione knew a sharp edge would cause less pain, but these slices stung like hellfire the moment it made contact with her skin.

"Where did you get the sword of Gryffindor?"

The end of his sentence was drowned out by her screams. This was torture in the truest sense of the word, but she couldn't give in. She couldn't tell them how they had obtained the sword. Snape might still be useful to them and she couldn't sacrifice the only person on their side within Voldemort's ranks. Besides, would they even believe that the sword had appeared in a pond, under a sheet of ice? The story was almost too fantastical for her to believe. Even if she told Yaxley and the LeStrange's the truth, they would never believe her. To be honest, she wasn't sure they even wanted the truth. If she gave it to them, they would no longer need to torture her, though that's not to say they wouldn't. Hell, they may continue torturing her for enjoyment. Maybe they would just kill her. Despite the total agony her body was in, she didn't want to die. She wanted to have a life beyond constantly helping Harry defeat evil. She wanted to visit the Louvre and tour Tuscany and eat and drink her way through Barcelona. There were so many things she still wanted to accomplish, so many spells to learn, so many books to read: she wouldn't give them a reason to cut her life short. Her life had only just begun, for Merlin's sake. She wanted so much more than she had. Her parents were still in Australia with no idea who they were; Hermione needed to go to Brisbane and bring them home.

Another slice from Bellatrix's knife though, and all she could think of was pain. Her screams echoed around the chamber once more.

"Shush, Mudblood. We need you to speak, not blow our eardrums," Rodolphus said as he trailed his wand along her cuts, his face revoltingly close to her bare midriff. "Come now, little Muddy, you can tell us. Then the pain will stop."

"Back off, Rodolphus. I need access to somewhere we haven't touched yet."

"The inside of the thigh is tender. Try there."

"Where did you get the sword of Gryffindor?"

Hermione screamed again.

~D~

A sound jolted him out of sleep. The second scream had him running out of his room to hers.

"Hermione!" He banged on the door, but her screams were drowning him out.

Draco whipped out his wand and went through every counter enchantment he could think of to get into her room. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the latch clicked and he burst in to find her flailing in the bed, fighting off some invisible attacker. He ran to her side and wrapped his arms around her, doing his best to keep her from hurting herself. Or him, for that matter.

"Hermione, love. Wake up. It's not real." She fought him like a hellcat and his arms screamed at the strain of keeping her from fighting her way off the bed. "HERMIONE, WAKE UP!"

She froze and her eyes popped open wide, her mouth forming a small "o". Then, realizing she was safe, she wrapped her arms around him fiercely and began sobbing.

Draco rubbed her back and muttered soothing nothings in her ear, letting her know that he was here, she was safe, that they couldn't touch her again. Seeing her this way shook him. Terrified him. The sounds of her cries tore at his heart, proving he still had one. How could one tiny woman overpower his entire world with something as simple as tears? He wasn't sure he liked how much power she held over him.

Slowly, the sobs turned to hiccups and the shaking slowed to just an occasional tremor.

"Are you okay?"

~H~

Hermione looked up at him, amazed all over again. It kept hitting her over and over: Draco was different. Draco was no longer the bully. Draco was the person she turned to for comfort. Incredible as it was, it was true. She'd seen the signs of this over and over but it was finally driven home. He was her person, as one American TV show had said. This was more than romance, this was a friendship that was going to last for the rest of her life. In this moment, she hoped that included romance as well.

She snuggled closer to him and hiccuped.

"I-I'm so s-sorry," she said into his chest. His very bare chest, now that she stopped to notice.

"Nothing to apologize for. Bad dream?"

She nodded, breathing in his scent that was masculine, citrusy, and entirely _him_. How was it that this smell gave her comfort now? Incredible.

"Want to talk about it or forget about it?"

"Forget," she said softly and looked up into his eyes. "Please, just make me forget."

To both of their surprises, she leaned up and pressed her lips against his. The sensation of his mouth against hers sent a spark of awareness all over her body. She slid a hand up, cupping his cheek, and tried to deepen the kiss but Draco pulled back.

~D~

"Are you sure this is what you want? You were just…"

"I know," she said, trying to capture his lips once more. "But now I want something to help me forget. I want to feel something other than fear. Help me feel something else, Draco."

He was torn. She was finally offering exactly what he'd desired since the beginning of term, but he didn't want it like this. He wanted Hermione to want him, not want to escape by using him. And yet, if this was the comfort she needed, he couldn't deny her. This was the kind of decision no red-blooded male should ever have to make. The gentleman inside of him warred with the man who had wanted Hermione Granger far longer than he would admit. The man who was suddenly, uncomfortably aware that he was in love with Hermione Granger. He didn't just desire her, he didn't just want to be her friend, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

These weren't the kinds of thoughts one should have whilst holding a formerly sobbing woman, but the mind rarely acts the way it should.

And now, he had to make a choice: give in and comfort her and question whether she truly wanted _him_ as a person, or deny her and hurt her more.

Well, there wasn't really a choice, was there?

~H~

She watched the inner turmoil in his eyes, then the softening of his silvery eyes, just barely visible in the moonlight filtering through the lead glass windows.

Then, his molten eyes faded from view as he leaned in to kiss her. She met him with a vigor she'd never known before. Kisses with Ron had been timid and awkward and uncomfortably wet. Draco's kiss was nothing like that. He knew what he was doing, and he did it well.

Very, very well.

She lost herself in the sensation. His fingers were tangled in her sleep rumpled curls and her hands wandered from his chest to his shoulders to his back. The school robes didn't do his figure justice. Draco was magnificent and her fingers stroked him hungrily, wanting more. She knew that this surge of lust, this sudden desire to have him, was a result of her dream. Hermione was well aware that people grieving would turn to sex to help them feel _something_ other than the pain, but at this moment she didn't care. Being with him, completely unrestrained, was glorious. This was everything she'd ever wanted with a man. His fingers teased the hair at the nape of her neck and sent fresh shivers down her spine.

~D~

He trailed kisses from her lips across her jaw and down her throat. The breathy sounds coming from her were going to drive him mad, but he embraced the madness gladly. To feel her lithe body melt against his and taste the sweetness of her skin was heaven. This was better than anything he could have ever imagined. It was bliss. Pure bliss.

"More," she whispered against his hair. "Please."

His hand stole under her flannel pajama shirt and trailed up her spine, pressing her firmly against him. Their tongues danced together, teasing and tangling. Her fingers were entwined in his hair, holding so tight it was almost painful but arousing as well. Somehow, they had rolled so that he was on top of her and she arched into him, taking his self control to the limit.

The sweet sounds she was making shot through him, straight to his loins. Merlin, he wanted her. Wanted her more than he'd ever wanted a woman before in his life. His hips ground against her as though they had a mind of their own.

"Draco," she gasped.

It was his undoing. His hand slipped around her ribcage, climbing slowly towards those wonderfully perky orbs he'd tried to ignore without much success all term. As he cupped her breast she gasped again, arching and urging him to continue. Her mouth was hot against his neck and shoulder, kissing and biting and destroying his desire for restraint. He caressed, teased, and rubbed her into a fury of need.

~H~

She wanted him. Now. All of him.

Hermione had never felt need like this. It was madness. This desire inside of her was like a white hot thing inside of her. She wanted more. She didn't know what _more_ consisted of, but she was certain Draco could give it to her.

" _More_ ," she begged.

His hand slipped over top of her pajama pants and made contact with that place between her legs that no one had touched, not even Ron. It sent a shot of electricity through her veins and made her say things she wouldn't remember the next day, alternately begging and demanding that Draco take her to that place she knew she needed. She ground down against his hand as his fingers delicately played across the center of her. Her body felt like it was rising higher and higher.

~D~

She trembled under his fingers, and he wasn't exactly steady himself. Draco was no green boy, but he'd never seen anything as beautiful or erotic as Hermione Granger beneath him, gasping for air, face wrought with desire. It was intoxicating. Increasing the friction against her core, he could feel the heat emanating from her.

And then she was crying his name, arching like a woman possessed and he felt a surge of male satisfaction and power. She was beautiful in her ecstasy and she was _his_. The animal within him roared its pleasure as she writhed under him. Draco kissed her all over, soothing her as she came down from her high.

Rolling to his side, she curled up against him, content as a kitten. In a matter of moments she was sleeping soundly, her breathing even and slow.

Draco stared at the ceiling and smiled, content.

He knew she still had much to work through and the nightmares would likely come back again and again, but as long as she continued to find comfort in his arms, he would keep them open and ready for her.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: So, after my mini meltdown in the author's note last time, my wonderful friend/beta/writing partner/fellow Marauder, Prongs, gave me the inspiration I needed. This story, at least to me, was sort of meandering with no real destination in sight. Now, we have a destination and I really really hope you all enjoy this. (Please remember once again that I frequently flip the bird to canon, and go with it.)**

 **Please, please review. I'm nearly at 100, which doesn't seem like much but I've never broken into the 3 figures so it's quite exciting. Once I hit 100, I'll treat you all to some more lemons or Lupin/Sirius/Tonks/Camilla, whatever you request. ~Pooka**

~H~

"It'll be fine. We'll meet the boys at the Three Broomsticks, say hi, Zabini and Malfoy will join us, we'll act totally nonchalant, Ron and Harry will accept it, and we'll have a nice day."

Hermione glanced over at her flame-haired best friend and cocked an eyebrow. She'd been repeating the same affirmation over and over the entire walk to Hogsmeade.

"First off, it's really odd that you don't call Zabini by his first name."

"That would suggest feelings. There's no feelings there."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Ginny was almost as mentally screwed up as she was.

"Second," Hermione carried on, "did Ron owl you to say _why_ they were coming to visit? They're still new to the Auror Department. Maybe it's different in the Muggle world, but newcomers generally have a hard time getting time off."

"It's strange," Ginny agreed, "but the boys also defeated He-Who-Must… Oh alright, _Voldemort_ , and got into the Auror program without their N.E.W.T.s. They aren't quite typical newcomers."

"Fair, but I still think it's fishy."

"What's fishy?"

His voice sent shivers of awareness up her spine and she turned around with a smile. Waking up beside Draco this morning had been a mix of shock, mortification, and pleasure. Just thinking about last night had her blushing twice over thanks to her embarrassment of being caught mid-nightmare and because of what had ensued after. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't find it within herself to regret what had happened. In fact, she was rather keen to see if a repeat occurrence, without the nightmares, would happen in the near future.

"The visit from my brother and the Chosen One."

Hermione made a face at Ginny for using Harry's old nickname. It was, in her opinion, obnoxious.

~D~

"Do you and your brother not get on?"

Ginny snorted. "We get on as well as siblings can, but it's just strange. He and Harry _just_ finished their Auror exams. It should be ages before they can get free time to scamper off to their old haunts for a weekend."

Draco snorted. Just like Potter and Weasley to get special treatment.

"Think Potter's status has anything to do with it?"

~H~

Hermione glanced at him. There was no malice when he said Harry's last name. It was the first time she could remember him saying "Potter" without a nasty sneer. The strangeness of Draco's newly turned leaf would pop up every once in awhile, still, and it made her chuckle to herself. She really, _really_ , enjoyed the new Draco.

~D~

"Unlikely," Ginny said. "Shacklebolt swore he'd make sure Harry was treated the same as everyone else, if not harder. Because Harry is something of a self-taught Auror, the Minister is certain that he's got loads of bad habits to unlearn and the Ministry isn't going to put up with 'a cowboy who thinks he's indestructible because he has a scar.'"

Draco chuckled at that.

"Would you like Blaise and I to walk you into the Three Broomsticks?"

"Lud, absolutely not," Ginny said with an apologetic look. "Ron would have our heads before we got a chance to explain. It's best if we figure out _why_ they're here, and then when we've caught up and buttered them up, I'll run to the bar and grab you both and bring you back to the booth."

"Better not butter up Potter too much," Blaise Zabini's deep, lightly accented voice said from behind them. "He might have carried a torch for you before, but I don't share well with others, sweets."

Ginny and Hermione chuckled and the four of them meandered down to Hogsmeade together, hoping for the best.

~H~

"'Mione! Ginny! It's good to see you both. Here, have a seat. We got you Butterbeers."

"Thanks," the girls replied. It was good to see Harry again. He looked good. Really good. Far better than he had last summer while he recovered from the Battle of Hogwarts and went through the exhaustive Auror training. Harry was looking fit and had filled out some, finally. His eyes, though. His mother's expressive eyes were guarded. The excitement of seeing his friends appeared genuine but there was something more to this visit and Hermione's heart sank.

~D~

Blaise and Draco watched from the bar as they ordered a round of Butterbeer from Madam Rosmerta. Potter looked serious. Had the girls spilled their names already? Or was this visit more than a simple meet up?

"NO!"

Hermione's shriek drew attention despite how loud the Three Broomsticks was. Blaise grabbed Draco's elbow before he'd even realized he was trying to get to their booth.

"Something's wrong."

"No shit, Malfoy. But if you barge over there now, it'll get a lot worse. Weaselbee and Potter look serious. This isn't a Butterbeer date with friends. I have a gut feeling this has something to do with Death Eaters, what with Potter looking more like an Auror than a friend over there. That being said, your presence likely won't help."

Hermione was trying to get out of the booth. Weasley, the male one, grabbed her wrist and Draco growled. Hermione tried to shake him off and he wasn't letting her leave. Draco was going mad, not being able to hear what was going on.

"Settle down, Draco. You're going to draw attention if you keep glaring over there like that. You look positively feral."

He felt feral.

"Let her bloody go," Draco muttered under his breath. Ron dropped her wrist as if he'd been shocked and Hermione made a beeline for the door. Draco followed her out and was about to call out to her when he heard the little rat bastard's voice behind him.

"This isn't the time or place for you to badger her, Malfoy. I don't know what nasty comments you have lined up, but I'd highly suggest keeping them to yourself if you don't want to be at the other end of a duel."

Hermione stopped and Draco reached over to squeeze her hand before turning to Weaselbee.

"You know nothing, Weasley."

"I know you're a foul little git that is only walking free because your _daddy_ cried on the stand."

"You know _nothing_ , Weasley. And I would highly recommend holding your tongue before you embarrass yourself further." Draco gave the lanky red-haired boy an arctic glare that made even Weaselbee step back. Maybe he wasn't a total dunce.

"Get out of my way and get away from her. You taint the air around her," the weasley bastard said nastily.

~H~

"Ronald!" She cried, finally finding her voice.

"What?" Ron snarled, glaring at Draco.

"You don't understand…" She said, but Ron wasn't letting her get a word in edgewise.

"I understand that you stormed out of the pub looking upset and this _Slytherin leech_ decided that now you'd be vulnerable and he could berate you."

"Well, you got my observation skills right, but you're dead wrong on the objective, Weasley."

Draco's voice was like shards of ice and made even Hermione feel chilled. She took a deep breath and stepped up so she was beside Draco, boldly taking his hand.

Ron glanced down at their intertwined fingers and looked gobsmacked, then revolted.

"What the bloody hell are you doing, Hermione?"

"Ron, Draco isn't the person you-"

"Draco? _Draco_? Since when do we call that rat bastard by his first name?"

"Since we started dating, arsehole."

Hermione nudged Draco, but he looked unapologetic for his swearing.

"You can't be serious. Malfoy? You're dating _bloody Malfoy_?"

"Do you have an issue with that, Ronald?" Ginny breezed out of the Three Broomsticks, fingers similarly intertwined with a very cocksure looking Blaise. "You've missed a lot being gone this term. The Slytherin boys have changed. A lot. We all have."

Ron glanced at his sister, then back to Hermione, and back again.

"This is a joke, right? You two got Neville and Dean to Polyjuice it, right? Self transfiguration? Something? This can't be real."

"It's real, Weasley. And I'd appreciate it if you'd stop insulting my friend as well as the girls. We're each quite happy in our current circumstances and certainly don't require your blessings to remain that way." Draco's face almost looked pained with the effort not to smirk, but rather smile in a disarming manner.

His feeble attempts fell flat as Ron leapt towards Draco, fists drawn back.

Ron never got the chance to hit Draco as Harry Body-Bonded him before he could hit.

"Sorry, Ron," he said to his friend who was now on the ground. "What's going on out here? I went to pay the tab so Madam Rosmerta didn't think we were running out on her and I come out to… well…" Harry gestured to the two couples.

"I'm dating Blaise, Hermione and Draco are dating, sort of, and we're all friends. It's a new Hogwarts and we've sort of led the charge in ignoring old societal dictates," Ginny said succinctly.

"So I see." Harry said, looked surprised but not angry. Merely curious. "Is Malfoy still a prat?"

"No," Hermione said quickly. "He's actually been a big help to me while I work through, well, everything. He's one of the few who can understand."

"Right then. Guess I owe Sirius five Galleons.'

"You, what?" Hermione squawked.

"He swore you two were dating, I called bollocks. He said Draco seemed like less of a horse's arse, I called bollocks. Both bets combined were worth five Galleons."

Hermione just shook her head.

"Now that we have introductions out of the way, I need to talk to you about the trial, Hermione."

~D~

Trial?

"No way, absolutely not." Hermione's stubborn little jaw was set.

"We need to extradite her to the UK so we can put her back in Azkaban, Hermione. There were a lot of people in Croatia who supported Voldemort. They need proof that Bellatrix is more than just a purist. Croatia doesn't take nicely to torture after what the International Auror Agency did over there when they were searching for Grindelwald. We need to give them proof that she's someone who is on that level. We all know she is, but most of the people who can provide real memories with her in action for the legal pensieves are dead. You're one of the few who can testify. We need you."

Potter was out of his bloody mind. He had no idea the hell she went through any time that psycho of a woman was mentioned in front of Hermione. Draco was ready to snarl some nasty put down at the neophyte Auror, but then he stopped.

Hermione lived in constant terror of Bellatrix, Yaxley and Rodolphus. Yaxley and Rodolphus were dead. Only Bellatrix was left, having barely dodged Molly Weasley's rage-filled curses and disappearing into the forest amidst the chaos. If Hermione helped put that woman behind bars (or, better, to death, in his opinion), then perhaps she could start to move forward. Draco knew she'd never "get over" her ordeal or "move past it", but she could move forward. And testifying against Bella, as well as putting her behind bars, could be a real help in that process.

~H~

"I don't think I can." The panic bubbled up inside of her. Flashes of the chamber, seeing Bellatrix's hatred, feeling her poison dipped dagger cut into her flesh. Hermione was starting to lose herself in the rabbit hole of memories until Draco gripped her hand and pulled her back to the present.

"I can't," she said resolutely. "Just ask Draco. I can't deal with it. I'll be a wreck. There's no way I'm facing her again."

Then he opened his mouth to speak and she wanted to close it again for him. Preferably with force.

"I think Potter's right, Hermione. Facing her, helping put her behind bars, it could really help you."

She whipped her head towards him so quickly she got a crick in her neck.

"You _can't_ be serious!"


	19. Chapter 19

~H~

Of all the unthinkable, inconceivable, hare-brained, mad ideas a man had ever had, Hermione was of the mind that Draco's suggestion that she face Bellatrix in a courtroom and allow an entire jury to watch what had happened that night was the top. She was outraged. Furious. Scared.

She was sitting in the window seat of her bedroom, her knees pulled up to her chest, staring out at the autumn colors of the Forbidden Forest. Logically, she knew she should go through with it and give the courts her memory. For once, she didn't want to be logical. As much as she hated to admit it, she was afraid and feeling rather cowardly. A difficult admission for a Gryffindor to make, but there it was.

Harry and Ron hadn't been able to harrang the girls about their choice of beaus after Harry's bombshell had dropped. Hermione had felt terrible, seeing the hurt in the boys' eyes when she went to Draco for comfort instead of them, but they didn't understand. They couldn't. Hermione had bared her soul to Draco: he'd seen her worst and accepted it without judgement. There was a bond there now. She'd been through hell with the boys while hunting the horcruxes, but Draco alone knew the story of that night and that was enough to make her want his comfort over Harry and Ron's.

The door creaked open and she heard his footsteps on the cold stones.

"Anything I can do?" He asked, softly.

Hermione appreciated that he didn't ask how she was. He didn't need to. The lost look in her eyes and the dried tears on her cheeks were explanation enough, even if he hadn't known what had happened.

"Hold me?" She asked, uncertain. They had been physically close on numerous occasions now, but even still she felt strange asking for it. She'd all but told Sirius that she intended to go the distance with Draco, but they hadn't discussed what they were or what the goal was. For the time being, it had been enough to simply be there for one another.

Not that she thought she was any great comfort to him. Thinking about it made her realize that while he was always there, supporting her and comforting her, he never seemed to need anything from her. She'd have to rectify that.

Draco walked over to the window and looked out at the sky, bright blue melding with the fiery oranges and soft yellows of sunset. He scooped her up in his arms, causing her to squeal in shock before he set her on the bed and laid down beside her.

"Not enough room on that thing for two," he explained as he wrapped his arms around her. "Anything else?"

She looked at him, chocolate eyes full of fear and concern and something else. Her fingers trailed up his chest, fiddling with the buttons, skating over his exposed throat. She threaded her fingers into the silvery blonde hair at his nape and pulled him in for a kiss.

Draco slid his hand up to cup her cheek and took control of the kiss. He started light, barely there brushes of his lips against hers, making her want more. She tried to lean closer to kiss him deeper, but he pulled back, forcing her to stay slow.

"Don't rush it," he whispered against her cheek, placing kisses along her jaw, brow, and nose. "Let me savor this."

Chills danced down her back and her fingers tightened in his hair, causing him to buck his hips against hers.

"Minx," he chuckled softly. He must not have minded because his lips glided back down to hers and kissed her firmly before tracing his tongue along the seam of her lips. She opened for him gladly and their tongues parried each other. He groaned as she tugged on his lower lip, kissing her way down to his shoulder, pushing his collar out of the way. She nipped and sucked on the skin as it was exposed, fingers deftly unbuttoning his forest green shirt.

She was growing flushed and wanted more. Now.

~D~

Draco pushed her back gently by the shoulders and looked at her, his eyes molten with want.

"Hermione, sweetheart." She looked up, confused and blushed from the endearment. He groaned. She was going to be the death of him. There were few things he hated more than pausing in the midst of things like this, but he needed to certain.

"You know I want you. And I know you want this too. But," He stopped. He didn't want to dissuade her from continuing, but he also didn't want her to regret anything later.

"Yes?" Her voice was breathless and he felt his loins tighten.

"I want to make sure you want this because you want _me_ , not because you want an escape from thinking about-"

She held a finger to his lips.

"Draco, I went through hell last year. And I had Ron with me. If I'd wanted to use intimacy as an escape, I would have. This isn't blind lust, hoping to erase bad thoughts. This is me, finally feeling comfortable, beautiful even, in my own skin. You make me feel this way. You make me feel safe and desired and beautiful. I'm not trying to slither into your pants because I'm trying to forget. I'm trying to live again. And you make me feel alive."

He groaned at the house pun, but smiled nonetheless and pulled her in for another kiss.

There was no hesitation this time. She'd given him the go ahead and the little brain in his trousers was fighting to take control having been given the all clear. Their tongues clashed together as he kissed her with abandon, their hands both fighting to release the other from their tops. They broke apart as he tugged her jumped up over her head and then collided together once more as his hands greedily memorized every inch of bare skin he could find. A flick of his wrist undid her bra and they worked together to chuck it to the side. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and back, pulling him closer even though they were already flush. His hand slid under the band of her jeans, grasping her rear and pulling her into him.

The last time Draco had been this excited just from half-clothed grinding was… well, it had been a very long time. And this was better, more emotional and fulfilling, than his past sexcapades. Hermione was a vision: pale skin, warmed by the sunset shades filtering in through the window, brunette curls spread across the pillows, white teeth worrying her lower lip as she tried to keep her moans to a minimum.

Putting his thumb to her lip and releasing it from her bite, he said, "Let me hear you."

She made a breathless sound that made his cock jump. Merlin, she was incredible.

His hands practically shook as he undid the buttons on her jeans. Draco knew rationally that they'd gotten this far before, but knowing that she wanted to go further and wanted him for him, and not as a way to escape her thoughts, had him feeling almost like a green boy in bed. Sex was something Draco had enjoyed, as most men do, but never had it been like this. He wanted her with a fire unlike anything he'd felt before. He wanted to enjoy it, to make it last as long as possible.

Hermione arched to helped him wriggle her jeans off and didn't even squeak when he pulled her panties down with them. As she reached for his trouser button, he dodged and pushed her onto her back.

"Let me enjoy this," he said huskily, kissing her breasts and skimming his hand over her ribcage. He smiled as chill bumps covered her body and her nipples pebbled. He swirled his tongue around one as his finger plucked at the other, making more of the mewling sounds come from her. "Tell me what you want, Mione."

She groaned at the use of her nickname, loving the sound of it on his lips, then again as his teeth grazed the tender peak.

"I could worship your breasts for a lifetime," he breathed, doing exactly that. The pitch of her moans inched higher and she started to beg.

"Please. More. I need…"

"I know, love." He dropped kisses down her sternum to her navel, nipping his way to one hip then the other, teasing her just above where she wanted his mouth most. He grinned as her hands finally grabbed him by the hair and started to push him lower.

" _Please_."

"Well, since you asked so nicely." He dipped his tongue into her slit and she arched off of the bed with a "Yes!"

He lifted her legs until her knees were bent and threaded his arms beneath her knees, placing his hands on her abdomen to keep her steady. And then he started in earnest. She gasped and cried as his tongue dipped and teased before flicking over her tender bud, driving her higher and higher. He sucked on it hard and she went over the edge, chanting his name, begging him to come inside of her.

That was all it took to destroy that last shred of self control he had. He shucked his trousers in record time and took a split second to lubricate his tip in her juices before thrusting home and roaring in satisfaction. His roar was almost loud enough to drown out her squeak of pain.

He froze, looking down at her. Hermione's eyes were shut tight and she was biting her lip. She was almost acting as if she were a virgin. But that couldn't be. She would have told him, wouldn't she? She'd been alone, with Weasley, for months before her night at the Manor. Draco assumed they'd consummated their relationship and hadn't thought to ask. But the way she was scrunching her face was definitely due to pain. He'd made sure she was soaked before he slid home, so that would have to mean…

"You're a virgin?" He didn't shout. The last thing he wanted to do was spook her. But there was a heavy dose of incredulity in his voice and his blood turned to ice.

"Mhmm" she murmured.

That confirmation, the one he almost dreaded, sent heat coursing through his veins as he realized something else. He was her first. He was the only man to have ever had her. Primitive possessiveness flowed through him and he nudged in a bit further.

"Does it still hurt?" He considered asking _how_ exactly she was still a virgin, but his cock decided there were better times for that. For now, it wanted more of her drenched satiny core.

"Oh, that felt good," she said, surprised, and then flexed her hips to do it again. Draco groaned. He wanted nothing more than to pound into her until he lost himself in oblivion, but since this was her first time he had to adjust tactics.

He lowered himself onto his elbows so that her chest brushed against his as he eased out and the slid home once more, gritting his teeth in his restraint. After a few strokes, Hermione began to pick up on his rhythm and arched her hips into him as he pumped into her. As with everything else in her life, Hermione learned what to do quickly and had Draco fighting his orgasm as hard as he could, desperate to make her come again.

He slid his hand between them and his thumb found her little bundle of nerves. As he rubbed against her, her body clenched around him, gripping him tightly. Her gasps hit higher and higher until she shattered, body arching up off the bed, legs wrapped tightly around him, fingers digging into his shoulders. Draco's restraint was at an end and he pounded into her, shouting her name as he shuddered and came within her.

It was glorious. _She_ was glorious. He rolled to the side to avoid crushing her. He reached to the side where his trousers still lay on the bed and grabbed his wand, casting a quick cleaning charm on them both and a charm to prevent pregnancy. She was still trying to control her breathing and he had a feeling, as this was her first time, that she likely hadn't learned _that_ bit of magic yet. Tossing his wand onto the bedside table, he pulled her to him, tucking her head against his chest and smiled.

She was his. Completely his. He was the first to have her and he understood now why tradition had required brides and grooms to wait until their wedding night. Part of it was due to the purity of women, but the men who made the rules… Draco was certain it had something to do with the pervasive sense of possession and desire and protectiveness that came from knowing you were the first. It was a heady feeling.

He looked down at her, chestnut curls falling over his shoulders like strands of silk with a few caught on her soft pink lips, and was overcome with a sense of peace.

It wasn't frightening or shocking.

Looking back he should've realized it was inevitable.

He was in love with Hermione Granger.


	20. Chapter 20

~H~

Hermione woke to the sound of tapping on the glass. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she eased out from under Draco's arm and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She leapt to the floor, complaining when her bare feet met the chilly stone.

Opening the window, a snowy owl fluttered in. It landed upon the nightstand and fluttered its feathers. Hermione latched the window as Draco reached for the owl.

"Ouch! It nipped me," Draco grumbled as the owl hooted at him. The beautiful white bird looked at Hermione and held out its leg.

"'It' is Clotilde."

"Clotilde?" Draco made a face that made Hermione burst into laughter, irritating Clotilde and earning Hermione a nip on the finger as well.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed, "Bloody bird. Yes, Clotilde. Harry's first owl, Hedwig, was named after the Patron Saint of Orphans. Clotilde is the Patron Saint of adopted children. Rather fitting since Harry is taking Teddy in."

"Teddy?"

"Yes, Teddy. Your cousin. The son of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, Andromeda's daughter."

"Oh," Draco said, looking dazed. He appeared to have forgotten that he had family connected to Harry.

"Andromeda had been watching over him during the week while Tonks and Remus were working here. Tonks didn't want him growing up in the castle and having it lack that magic we all experienced on our first day. With Harry finishing his Auror training and having Kreacher around to nanny, he wanted to step up to the plate as Godfather and help out. Dromeda said she'd watch him if needed, but Kreacher is apparently positively doting on Teddy."

"Right," Draco said.

"Were you planning on saying more than a word at a time today?" Hermione asked as she unfolded the note.

"Perhaps," he snapped.

"Couldn't have let me enjoy the morning, could you?" Hermione grumbled and waived Clotilde towards a sack of owl treats on her desk.

Draco swung his legs over to the side of the bed and leaned on his knees, ruffling his pale blonde hair. "What did the Chosen One say?"

Hermione lightly smacked his shoulder. "Please don't use that ancient name. It's awful."

Draco snorted.

"He said he's set up a date and time for me to meet the lawyer who's running the case to get Bellatrix back into the UK. Name of Amadeus Lovegood."

"Oh Merlin, no. No bloody Lovegoods. They're all mad as March hares."

"To be completely honest, I rather like the Lovegoods. They're a step left of normal, but they're quite intelligent. And Amadeus apparently broke with the family and prides himself on being as boringly normal as possible. That's why he became a barrister and not a pollywog chaser, or whatever Luna is hoping to become."

Draco snorted again.

"If you keep doing that, you're going to get bogeys all over the place. Please stop."

He looked more offended than chastened and Hermione giggled. Draco stood and started to get dressed.

"Did my comment offend you that much?"

"No," he said shortly. "I'm hungry and I believe they're serving a florentine eggs benedict this morning. You know how much I love spinach with my breakfast."

"Yeah, you're a regular Pop-Eye," she said under her breath.

"Pop eye? What's spinach have to do with exploding eyeballs?" Draco looked utterly horrified and Hermione absolutely lost it, laughing on the floor.

"It's a- It's a-" She could barely get the words out between her howls of laughter. "It's a cartoon!"

His look of horror had morphed into the scowl she knew so well from the early years at Hogwarts. "Bloody awful name for a cartoon. Get yourself up and presentable before all of the bacon is gone."

Hermione did as she was bid, chuckling the whole way.

~D~

There was, in fact, plenty of bacon and florentine eggs benedict left when they meandered down to the Great Hall. Ginny and Blaise were absent, but they usually didn't bother to wake up before noon on weekends so that was no surprise. Hermione certainly had a hearty appetite this morning and Draco grinned, knowing perfectly well what had left her so ravenous. He was having a hard time not digging into his breakfast with the same gusto, but nearly two decades of learning manners at his mother's table made it impossible for him to let go to the same extent as Hermione. The sight of her eating without a care as to what other people would think made him smile. In his world, women ate like birds in public, focused on maintaining perfect figures without charms (as those charms could go horribly wrong and leave one looking like a scarecrow or Umbridge).

"What?" Hermione asked, swallowing a mouthful of scone and clotted cream.

"Nothing, lovely. Just admiring you."

She squinted at him and slowed down her eating. Instead of resembling a starving dog, she now looked more like a normal human being.

That was one of the things he admired most about his little muggleborn. She was practically feral, though he would never say that aloud. Hermione would no doubt see it as an insult, and that isn't how he meant it in the least. She was wild, untamed, every inch of her from that riotous hair to her ever tan skin. When she was outdoors, she was like a nymph. She was eminently comfortably in her own skin, more so than anyone, witch or wizard, he'd ever known. This morning, she'd wandered around in her own skin and nothing else as if she'd done so in front of him a thousand times. It was mesmerizing. In the morning light, her skin glowed golden and he was enraptured by every curve and dimple.

"Are you okay?"

Her question pulled him from his thoughts and brought back the cacophony of the Great Hall, which had filled significantly since he'd last taken notice. She was staring at him with those deep chocolatey eyes and he nearly lost himself again until she raised her eyebrows.

"Sorry, I was lost in thought."

"I can see that," she laughed. "Thinking about…?"

"You," he said with a devilish wink.

Hermione rolled her eyes and chomped on her bacon. She had no idea that she occupied much of his thoughts these days. His hopes, his fears: all were centered around her now.

~H~

"I'm meeting with Amadeus next weekend. I'll let McGonagall know I'll need to head down to Hogsmeade again, but I can't see her saying no." Hermione was bustling around the library, grabbing books on Arithmancy to prepare for their next essay.

"I'll be joining you." Hermione glanced over at Draco, and his steely gaze brooked no argument.

"I can't imagine it'll be terribly interesting," she prattled on, "just legal things, what to expect, how to present myself-"

"And what you'll need to say. He's going to ask for details, lovely. You know that as well as I. Any time the memories of that night are brought up, you're a wreck. No, don't look at me like that, you know it's true and it is absolutely normal. You should be a wreck. It happened just last year, it was awful, and it was terrifying. It's okay to not be okay. And it is certainly okay to have someone with you when recounting those experiences in front of a complete stranger."

The tell tale clicks of Madam Pince's boots drew near and Hermione glared at Draco, letting him know he'd gotten too loud. She rushed down the row of bookcases to intercept the stickler of a librarian and apologize.

As she made her way back to their table, Hermione felt the interest in Arithmancy evaporate as her mind was overtaken by the prospect of seeing the barrister. Draco was right. She'd have to talk about what had happened. Currently, Draco was the only person outside of that room who knew all that had occured. Now, she was going to have to spill all of it, or at least the big bits, to a total stranger. The prospect was terrifying. And then, she would have to testify in front of a courtroom. Barristers, judges, a jury, possibly the press… All of them would hear and know what had happened. Hermione knew, logically, that it had to be her who testified. She couldn't remain anonymous. The tales of the crimes coming from a member of the Golden Trio, as the press had dubbed them, would be the final nail in Bellatrix's coffin. But finding the strength to do so would be difficult. Perhaps more difficult than hunting the horcruxes. This would be public, discussed in newspapers around the wizarding world, dissected by analysts, interpreted by leeches like that heinous Rita Skeeter.

Her friends would all know. The awful truth she'd hidden from them: Harry, Ron, Ginny, Molly, Arthur, George, Fred, Remus, Tonks, Luna… All of them would know. She couldn't let them find out through the press. It wouldn't be fair. Molly would likely have a breakdown. Ginny would be hurt that Hermione hadn't trusted her enough to tell her. The boys… Harry and Ron would go mad with wanting to kill Bellatrix themselves.

She would have to tell them all herself.

Bloody hell.


	21. Chapter 21

~H~

The next week passed in a blur. Between classes and meals, Draco and Hermione could be found hunched over a desk in the library working on their end of term papers and projects. It was hard to imagine that Christmas was just around the corner, but the proof was in the sheer amount of work they were facing. Slughorn had them working on potentially making their own Veritaserum, and everyone in the class had failed at least once. Ginny's had burned a hole straight through the thick oaken table whilst Hermione's had turned a rather shocking shade of violet. Professor Slughorn had merely tutted at them and reassured the class that making a perfect Veritaserum was virtually impossible the first time around simply because it was so complex. Severus Snape was the only one of his students to ever manage it, he had told them. Well, Severus Snape and Lily Evans.

"Wonder if Snape gave Harry's mum pointers?" Ginny asked as they walked out of class. Hermione laughed, but considered it possible.

Perhaps Lily Potter's potion making abilities were due to her friendship with the young Severus. Snape's dedication to Lily certainly would have suggested it. Hermione shrugged, not particularly caring. A man who loved a woman beyond reason, then treated her only child as appallingly as Snape had treated Harry, was not a good man.

Harry was converted to the Dumbledore reminiscent way of thinking when it came to Professor Snape's inner goodness, but Hermione still thought he was a louse.

A warm hand slipped into hers and threaded fingers through her own. Hermione smiled up at the blonde framed face, blushing as he kissed her forehead. During their Sixth Year, Draco had taken to wearing his hair slicked back, similar to the way he'd worn it when she'd first met him. This morning, she had woken him up by mussing his hair, then telling him how dashing he looked with his tousled bed-head look. He apparently had taken her comment to heart and left his hair as it was for the rest of the morning. Smiling up at him, she accepted another kiss.

"Mind if we sit at Gryffindor for lunch?" Ginny asked. "Neville bred my pygmy puff, Arnold, with Luna's and promised to show me one of the pufflings. They've been staying down near Professor Sprout's and Hagrid's pumpkin patch. Apparently they enjoy the seeds, or some rot like that. I don't much care, I just want to see my little Arnie as a Papa Puff."

Draco rolled his eyes, but acquiesced. Hermione smirked.

While Ginny pestered Neville about the state of the pufflings, Hermione ate her cottage pie slowly, focused more on the weekend meeting than the savory gravy produced by those poor house elves below. Even the promotion of S.P.E.W. had fallen to the wayside between the demands of school, a budding relationship, and the disaster that was her fallout from the War. Perhaps it was time to bring S.P.E.W. back into the limelight. Dobby had recovered, finally, from the devastating knife wound he'd suffered thanks to Bellatrix's ability with a knife (a skill Hermione knew well), and she was certain that the Elf Who Lived, as Ron and Harry had taken to calling him much to the elf's delight, would be more than willing to speak on behalf of his kind.

Where would she go after S.P.E.W. didn't require her to baby it anymore? That was anyone's guess. Hermione supposed she'd go to work for the Ministry, likely in a place that would allow her to promote the welfare of other creatures who were underrepresented in the Ministry, such as centaurs, trolls, and werewolves. Overcoming the reputation of someone as repugnant as Fenrir Greyback would be difficult, but Merlin knew that if anyone could show the worth of werewolves, especially bitten victims of monsters like Greyback, if was Remus Lupin. Brilliant, well-spoken, humble, stable, a devoted husband and father: Lupin could prove the worth of werewolves in the modern Wizarding World. Besides, word on the street was that a group of potion-masters were already on the job and had nearly eradicated the symptoms of lycanthropy from Egypt. Much needed there, too, since wolves impossibly rare in that area and the attacks required extensive cover-ups by the Egyptian Ministry.

A tap on her leg jolted Hermione back to reality.

"Lunch is over, lovey. Time for Herbology."

~D~

The morning of the meeting went about as well as Draco expected it to.

"I feel awful. I think I'm getting sick. Do I feel warm to you? Perhaps this isn't such a good plan. What if I make him ill! Really, it's in everyone's best interests if I remain here, in bed. Winky can bring me tea, she's been visiting more now that she's sober. Honestly, you should probably go to your room, I wouldn't want you to come down with whatever bit of yuck I've picked up."

"Hermione Jean Granger, get your fanny out of that bed and into those jeans."

She looked up at him indignantly.

"Now!"

She meandered around the room grumbling and cursing incoherently, though Draco thought he heard something about "a controlling prick" and "stubborn as a fat assed mule". Hermione really was charming when she had to get up early on Saturdays. Even when he would stay in bed reading next to her, she'd grumble about how loudly he turned the pages. It made him smile. Something about the pouty face and the wild hair defying gravity as usual and the way he could hear her trying to stomp, and failing, on the cold stone floor.

"We have to go soon, Mione. He'll be waiting."

She paused with her side to him, her jumper pulled halfway down her chest showing one of the longest scars from just below her ribcage to the top of her too-prominent hip bone. Tugging the periwinkle wool down, she harrumphed. Draco knew she was desperate not to attend this meeting, not to walk through her ordeal with a veritable stranger, but it needed to be done. Bellatrix needed to be transported back to Britain to face her charges and inevitable sentence of death.

Getting Hermione to help the Ministry get Aunt Bella back on British soil was going to be traumatic, but Draco was prepared. At least, he was as prepared as one can be for an event such as this. One needed to be centered. Grounded. Willing to be everything and anything the other person required. He loved this bushy haired woman and would move heaven and earth to keep her from pain. As awful as it was to realize, he couldn't shield her from this pain, but he could damn well be there to pick up the pieces and hold her once it was over.

She would get through this.

 _He_ would get her through this.

~H~

There was a man standing in the far corner of the Hog's Head private room where they had been told to meet. From behind, the man could have been a Malfoy: lithe, impeccably dressed in professional-looking grey robes, pale skin, confidently positioned. In fact, the only give away from the rear was the blonde hair perfectly quaffed, more golden than platinum.

When the wizard turned, however, he was all Lovegood. Those brilliant blue eyes, so similar to his brother's, but markedly less manic than the ones which had stared at Hermione during the telling of the Tale of the Three Brothers. These eyes were still bright and shockingly cerulean, however they were bright with intelligence rather than mania. These eyes scrutinized her, making her feel as though he'd peeled back a layer of her armor without so much as a word.

"Ms. Granger, I presume?"

"You presume correctly. Mr. Lovegood, I would guess?"

"Naturally, but do call me Amadeus."

"Thank you, Amadeus," Hermione replied, more confidently than she felt. "This is…"

"Mr. Draco Malfoy. Yes, I am well acquainted with his father's work."

Draco's lips tightened. He was no fan of his father's "work" at the Ministry, as he had told Hermione before. Draco intended to polish the family name and keep all of their businesses on the up and up just as soon as he could obtain the controlling stakes in the family business.

"He's been invaluable to me these last few months. I would not be here today without him," Hermione said, a touch angrily. "He will stay here with me and corroborate my story. If you can not respect him, we will both be going."

"My apologies," the pale skinned man said, holding his hands up in surrender. "I was not aware that the young Malfoy had so integrated himself with the light."

"When you are raised in a world with nothing but darkness, Lovegood, you learn to appreciate the light." Draco grey eyes were steely with challenge, but Amadeus simply nodded.

"He seems like a good man to have in a storm," Amadeus told Hermione.

"The best." She said simply. "Now, how do we do this?"

~D~

It was awful to witness.

Hermione had kept her calm for much of the interview. She relayed the story as simply as she could to the barrister as he jotted down the occasional note and recorded her words with something he called a "tape recorder". Draco had never seen one before, but Hermione appeared to take no notice of it, so Draco assumed it was a Muggle contraption.

The story came out fairly quickly, Hermione's voice explaining everything almost robotically. Draco was proud she made it through from capture to escape with hardly a waver of her voice. His hand reached into her lap and gave her knee a squeeze, which led to her hand gripping his tightly.

And then the questions came.

Clarification after clarification. Requests for more detail. Inquiries as to whether or not there was photographic evidence of the fresh wounds to provide evidence for the jury to see.

The longer the interview went on, the tighter Hermione squeezed his hand. She was stronger than she looked but he took the vice-like grip in stride. She was in hell. The least he could do was hold on to her for the ride.

When Hermione was struggling to speak coherently, Draco held up his free hand.

"She needs a break, Lovegood. Let her take a breather, I'll grab some butterbeer or cider for us, and we can carry on if she's up for it afterwards."

"Fine, fine," Amadeus said, apparently just now noticing how shaken she was. "My apologies."

It wasn't from lack of compassion, Draco thought, but rather intense focus on how best to use this information to sway the Croatian jury who would decide on whether or not to allow the deportation of Bellatrix. Hermione had experienced something terrible, and this man was going to have to determine a way to use it without making Hermione feel used. He was going to have to convince a jury that this was a hunt for justice, not revenge for the war.

As if he'd read Draco's mind, Amadeus continued. "I know going through this isn't easy, Ms. Granger. In fact, I'd hazard a guess that this is the hardest thing you have gone through since it happened. Reliving a trauma can be as awful as the trauma itself, if not more so since you can't try to escape it. But I am not asking these questions to put you through hell. I ask you for these details so that I can present them to a court and get this witch brought back to British soil. There will come a time during the court proceedings when you will be asked by the Croatian Ministry officials about what happened that night. You don't want that to be your first time talking about it. I will address as much as I can, but you will have to testify. The more I know, the more I can help you and take the brunt of the hard questions. I can also help you tell your story in a manner that will get the crucial bits across as succinctly as possible."

Hermione nodded mutely.

"This was never going to be easy, but having helped the Ministry extradite Death Eaters, and seeing the effect it can have on their victims and the victims' families? I've seen how much this can help. It has to potential to give you some much needed closure. Assuming Bellatrix LeStrange is brought back to Britain, which I truly believe will happen, she is going to be tried, found guilty, and executed. You are helping rid the world of one of its most evil inhabitants. And it'll hurt now. But just stay with me and look forward to living in a world without her."

"I can do that," Hermione responded, voice rough. "I want the bitch dead." Her caramel gaze was cold and determined.

"You're not alone in feeling that way, I assure you, Ms. Granger."

Hermione slipped her hand into Draco's. He squeezed it for reassurance.

The meeting ended shortly thereafter, with the most normal of the Lovegoods assuring them that he would be in contact. Draco wrapped his arm around Hermione's shoulders and felt her shiver. He lifted her chin with the tips of his fingers but didn't see any tears, just as he suspected. His brave, beautiful witch was fully back in control and wouldn't let the outside world see her pain. Not here. Not now.

Later in the evening, once dinner was past, he would sit with her and let her work through the pain. He would hold her, make her feel safe enough to let that shield down, and he would be there for her until she had released what needed to be released. Once the tears had stopped falling and the trembling subsided, Draco would wrap his arms around her and thank his stars that this woman was his to hold.


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: *peaks in, and hopes no one pelts with rotten fruit* Hey guys! So, it's been a year. I graduated college, got engaged, moved to a new state, got a new job, a new dog, and this story... It went on the back burner. The waaaay back burner. But! I'm back, as is my muse. Thank you to the Guest who reminded me that I still have 274 followers that I owed an update to. So, here it is. Not my longest chapter, but it is as long as I needed it to be for the next part. Thank you, all of you, for your patience and I hope to continue updating more frequently.

As always, your comments are GREATLY appreciated and my motivation to continue.

~Pooka

~D~

"I don't want to do this."

Hermione didn't sound scared or nervous, she said it simply. He understood her sentiments entirely. They had taken a portkey provided by Headmaster McGonagall to Ottery St. Catchpole and were standing just outside a rickety fence looking up at the strangest compilation of architecture Draco had ever seen. Malfoy Manor may have been larger than other pureblood homes, but the grandeur was reasonably standard from house to house. This was… It was quite possibly the ugliest house he'd ever seen. It looked as though it would tip over at the slightest bump. Draco had made fun of Weaselbee relentlessly in the years leading up to the War, but he'd never actually seen the Burrow. Draco had based his insults on his father's description of the place. His father's descriptions had not been overblown for once. This place was an eyesore and a danger to anyone who entered.

"You don't have to."

The sun glinted off her chestnut locks as she turned to look up at him. His slate grey eyes looked into her warm brown pools.

"You know I do. Molly would…" She glanced away. "I don't want them to hurt. And if they find out in the courthouse, it will hurt them."

Draco sighed and placed his hand at the small of her back, his thumb rubbing soothingly. She didn't try to resist as he gently pushed her through the gate.

~H~

"Hermione, dearie! Oh it is lovely to see you. You're looking much too thin these days, let me just--yes, here we are. Fresh scones, raspberry preserves and clotted cream, just as you like!"

The Weasley matriarch stepped out through her front door to give Hermione a hug and froze, arms spread, eyes riveted by the site of white-blonde hair in her front garden.

"Molly, you know Draco. I believe he's a cousin of yours."

Draco snorted, likely at her casual tone, whilst Molly's eyes narrowed.

"What is he doing here?" Molly said, quietly.

"He's here with me."

"Yes, yes, I can see that," Molly said, flapping her hands, "But why, dearie?"

"We're seeing each other," Draco said. He wasn't rude nor cruel, simply matter of fact.

That didn't seem to appease Molly Weasley.

" _Seeing_ each other? As in…?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "And before you go off making any comments about my choice and his past, I beg you to remember that it's me, Molly, not Ginny. I was never the thrill seeker. This isn't a walk on the wild side. Draco and I have spent a significant amount of time together, what with our being Head Boy and Girl and this wasn't something that occurred overnight. His past is exactly that: past. Believe me when I tell you that there is no one in Hogwarts who has done more for me in the last few months than him. He's helped me overcome...the experience at the Manor."

Molly looked at her gobsmacked.

"Him?" She asked, eyes flicking between the two of them.

"Him." Draco said, crisply.

"Well then," Molly said. "Best hear the whole of it. Come in, both of you."

Hermione entered first, followed by Draco, then Molly.

"Arthur should be here," Molly said, scuttling over to the backdoor to beckon Mr. Weasley in.

Arthur was equally as shocked as his wife, if more hostile, grabbing his wand from his belt. Hermione stood in front of Draco, staring him down until Molly convinced her husband to take a seat and a cuppa with their unlikely group.

"Well, it started when McGonagall asked us to help with interhouse unity…"

~D~

It felt like it took ages. Arthur would stop her and ask for details or clarifications, Molly just sat and listened. The whole story came out, though certain parts were blessedly glossed over, thank Merlin. The four of them went through three pots of tea before it was all over, Arthur slowly starting to add firewhiskey to his when Molly wasn't looking.

Draco wished he could do the same.

"Facing Bellatrix in court is going to be difficult, I know that, but I believe that Draco's help with my Occlumency should help with compartmentalizing it, and I believe that seeing her brought back to the UK and eradicated from this plane will help me heal. I want my family there to support me, including you, and I couldn't bear to shock you with his presence on a day that would already be stressful. You've been like a mum to me and I don't want to keep my boyfriend a secret." Draco smirked at the term, and Hermione elbowed him.

"I should have told you as soon as we started talking, but I wasn't sure how you would take it, especially with Arthur's past with Lucius, and…"

"You don't have to explain to me, dear." Molly said at last, holding up a hand. "I know what it's like to find someone your family does not like. For my mother to marry a Prewett was a slight embarrassment. For me to marry a Weasley… Well, let's just say my name was burned from the family tapestry along with Sirius and Andromeda. Now, it's a bit different since I was going for a blood traitor and you're dating a…"

"Death Eater," he said.

" _Former_ Death Eater," Hermione corrected.

"It's not the same, you're right. Mr. Weasley was not accused of murder."

"But Arthur was a pureblood!" Hermione said, "For Draco to be involved with me should be proof of his change of heart. He would end one of the longest pureblood lines in our world should things…" She blushed.

"Looking for forever, Granger?" he asked her, laughter in his eyes.

"I don't know!" she squeaked. "But if it does, as some relationships do, then that should be enough to show you've changed.

Her cheeks burned brightly and he reveled in her thoughts of the future.

The portkey in Hermione's pocket whined shortly thereafter, reminding them of their impending departure. Hermione gave hugs to Molly and Arthur. Draco assumed he would not get such farewells.

He was wrong.

"Any lad our Hermione brings home must be good. I'm glad to see you've broken the mold. T'isn't easy, but it is worth it, isn't it?" Molly whispered with conspiratorial wink and a big hug.

Arthur opted for a handshake, and then they were on their way back to the school.

"Thank you," she said softly, leaning her head against his chest and breathing in his spicy scent as they embraced before making their way back up to the school. There would be plenty of troubles in the coming days, but for now they would revel in the day's victories.


	23. Chapter 23

~H~

Hermione buried herself in school work to avoid thinking of what was to come. Simple Arithmancy equations were taken to ridiculous, hypothetical lengths; potions were tweaked, ingredients played with to determine if they could be used more effectively, similar to the way the Half Blood Prince had written; 12 inches of assigned parchment on the inner-working of Giant sociology turned into 50 as she wrote detailed descriptions of even the most minute cultural identifiers: all of it was just barely enough to keep her mind off of the impending trial in Croatia.

However, Christmas hols had finally arrived and Draco seemed adamant that she not study for a moment while they were away from Hogwarts. In a rather stunning turn of events, at least in Draco's opinion, Sirius had invited him to join Hermione at his home for the holidays. The Weasleys would be joining them on Christmas day, but for the majority of the break it would just be Sirius, Harry, Draco, and Hermione.

Hermione, for one, could not wait. As dark and dreary as the place had once been, Harry had managed to lighten the place up over the summer. Sirius and Harry had gone full Muggle over the summer by turning the remodeling of 12 Grimmauld Place into a sort of therapy. The Black family tapestry had stayed, at Hermione's insistence, declaring the importance of the preservation of history.

Sirius had doodled poorly-drawn portraits of those members who had been blasted off on Post-It notes, then stuck them onto the tapestry with permanent sticking charms. Hermione found the moving doodles amusing and commended him on his excellent tapestry repair work.

Draco had never been to the London seat of the Noble House of Black, and Hermione enjoyed the irony of a Muggleborn bringing him there.

~D~

Their arrival at Number 12 Grimmauld Place was oddly silent. The door swung open soundlessly and Hermione hung her coat by the door as if she owned the place. Years of etiquette had taught him to never open a house without the host or host's elves greeting you. Two years with the Dark Lord made him leery of entering strange houses that were too quiet for comfort.

A loud bang, followed by some very colorful cursing, from belowstairs made his wariness fade.

"Harry?" Hermione called, making her way towards what appeared to be the kitchen.

"Blasted cast iron, I swear it gets heavier and clumsier every time I use it," Harry was muttering as they made their way into the room, fire blazing merrily.

"Hullo, Hermione," Harry said as he fumbled about the kitchen some more. "Told Kreacher to take the night and I'd cook, seeing as I know your feelings on elves. Trouble is, I don't think he likes the idea of me cooking here and has charmed everything to make it difficult."

"Sounds like Kreacher," Sirius chuckled as he made his way in from the back garden. "Hermione, sweetheart. Lovely to see you."

Sirius and Hermione hugged while Potter swung round with a pot of pasta boiling over.

"Dammit, Kreacher! What did you do?"

"Don't you shout at him, Harry Potter!" Hermione scolded.

"Kreacher is doing nothing," Kreacher said from behind a door. "Kreacher is 'relaxing' and 'enjoying the time off' in his room. Kreacher is 'having fun.'"

"I don't believe Kreacher has ever done any of those things," Draco muttered.

"Right you are," Sirius said with a laugh. "And he doesn't mean to start now."

It was strange, Draco thought. He was in a kitchen, strange in and of itself, but beyond that he was joking and conversing with Sirius Black and Harry Potter. It was surreal.

After much muttering and cursing, Potter set down a passable meal of Swedish meatballs over egg noodles. It wasn't the worst meal he had ever had, and Draco had to say that was a point in Potter's favor. It was certainly a better meal than Draco himself could produce.

Hermione was animated throughout dinner, smiling and laughing. It was a relief to see after the quiet shell she'd been at the beginning of term. It was a relief. She'd lost her fire and it was magical to watch that spark return to her eyes.

It wasn't until they were finishing off the last of the spotted dick, courtesy of Black, that Draco realized the situation he was about to face. His heart stuttered.

"I had Harry do the housekeeping to prepare for you both," Sirius said, looking at Hermione, though Draco knew the tattooed, hardened Azkaban inmate was watching for his reaction. "Harry tried to set up two bedrooms. I told him that likely wasn't necessary. Was I correct?"

Hermione smirked.

"You were, Sirius. Thanks," and she kissed him on the cheek.

Harry looked gobsmacked, Sirius looked resigned. Draco maintained his mask of indifference, but just barely. He was thrilled for this proof that she was willing to be honest about their situation with her friends. He felt redeemed. There was no reason for someone as good as her to want to be someone as tainted as him, but he was selfish enough not to question her reasoning. She had her own demons, it was true, but it didn't negate his.

If the glint in Black's eyes were anything to go on, he remembered Draco's demons perfectly well.

Draco smiled blandly at him.

Draco was the last Black heir. Old magics prevented family offing the heir themselves, so he was safe from Black. Black could have someone else take him out, but from what he knew of the man, Sirius Black wouldn't allow anyone else to do the honors if he decided Draco needed to die. No, he'd probably lock Draco away and torture him into oblivion. Considering the madness Draco had seen in his aunt and what he knew of his great aunt, Draco was certain he wouldn't enjoy it. Draco, that is. Sirius would enjoy it a lot.

"Shall we?"

Hermione's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"We shall," he said, looping an arm around her waist. He chuckled quietly at the muffled grown from Potter.

~H~

A tapping woke her the following morning. She tried to burrow beneath the blankets, absorbing the warmth from Draco's bare chest.

The tapping didn't care, and continued on.

"Get the bloody bird," Draco muttered, voice muffled by her riotous curls.

After a lengthy stretch, and a poke in the ribs from her grumpy bedfellow, Hermione padded over to the window and let in Lillith, the barn owl she'd given her parents. Lillith hopped into the room, hooting indignantly.

Hermione could see why, the poor dear was weighted down with gifts from her parents.

 _Happy Christmas dearest!_

 _We wish you were here with us, the beaches in Brisbane are lovely if scorching. Quite a change from the winters in England. We should finish off the sale of our practice here soon and then we'll be home. I know Cammy will miss having you home for the hols. Lillith seemed eager to bring you your gifts, I hope the stubborn girl understands the undertaking of flying these around the world._

 _Have a lovely Christmas, my love. Your father and I look forward to seeing you this summer._

 _Love,_

 _Mum_

Hermione smiled at the note and picked up the gifts to take them downstairs.

"What do you have there?"

"Presents from my parents," she said softly. "I'm taking them downstairs. Go back to sleep."

She felt him watching her from the bed as she slipped into her terry robe and slippers and felt strangely domestic. As though they'd done this a hundred times and would do it a hundred thousand times more.

It wouldn't be so bad, she thought, if this happened a hundred million times more.

Unsurprisingly, Sirius and Harry were still fast asleep. Hermione took the brief quiet in Grimmauld Place to putter around the kitchen leisurely, brewing some milk oolong, popping some scones into the oven and taking the clotted cream from the pantry. She missed her mother's apple cinnamon muffins, a Christmas tradition in the Granger home, but Sirius' offerings would do.

She made her way to the parlor with the tree and found Draco there already, lighting the fire with his wand.

~D~

"Christmas used to be my favorite time of year at the Manor," he said without turning around.

"I'd guess Voldemort changed that?"

He barked a laugh. "You could say that."

"Well, how about we make some new memories. Better ones."

"It's going to take a lot of memories to erase that bastard."

"Then we better start soon, haven't we?" She asked as she sauntered up to him, wrapping her arms about his waist, pressing her lips to his back.

"Mm," he sighed, turning. "I can think of some memories I'd like to have."

"I've never kissed anyone under mistletoe," Hermione said with a grin.

"We should remedy that," he said, producing a sprig of mistletoe above them with a flick of his wand.

"We should," she said with that smirk he was growing to look forward to.

She raised her face to his, eyes fluttering shut and he didn't hesitate before meeting her lips with his.

Her lips were soft.

Plush.

He wanted to plunder them forever.

His hand slid along her hip before wrapping around her back, his other slipping into the mass of curls. He teased the seam of her lips with his tongue and she opened for him. He smothered a groan as her tongue met his, stoking the flames in his belly. His head slipped a little lower and she arched her back, pressing her pelvis against him.

She'd be the death of him, and he'd run to it like a parched man ran to water.

"Mooorning."

They froze.

 **A/N: I know, I know, sorry for the little cliffy. But I wanted to get a chapter out so you could all rest assured that I wouldn't abandon this fic for another year. I'm going to try and write a little bit through the week so I can update weekly. We'll see how it goes, but your comments are genuinely what motivated me to get this written and out to you as quickly as I did. Hopefully, next week's will be a bit longer. Thank you, thank you to my 20 (TWENTY!) new followers and all of my wonderful commenters. Please, keep em comin'.**

 **~Pooka**


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